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University  of  California  •  Berkeley 







.  .        y    •  ••• 








Printed  by  G.  BARCLAY,  Castle  St.  Leicester  Sq. 



INTRODUCTION    .....  3 

I.    THE  PEACE-PIPE            .             .             .             .  11 

II.    THE  FOUR  WINDS          ....  20 

in.  HIAWATHA'S  CHILDHOOD     ...  36 

IV.    HIAWATHA  AND  MUDJEKEEWIS       .             .  49 

v.  HIAWATHA'S  FASTING          ...  65 

vi.  HIAWATHA'S  FRIENDS          ...  80 

vii.  HIAWATHA'S  SAILING           ...  90 

vni.  HIAWATHA'S  FISHING           ...  98 


x.  HIAWATHA'S  WOOING           .         .         .  127 




XII.    THE  SON  OF  THE  EVENING  STAR  .             .  155 

XIII.    BLESSING  THE  CORN-FIELDS           .             .  175 

XIV.    PICTURE-WRITING         ...  188 

xv.  HIAWATHA'S  LAMENTATION           .  198 

XVI.    PAU-PUK-KEEWIS            ....  210 

XVII.    THE  HUNTING  OF  PAU-PUK-KEEWIS           .  224 

XVIII.    THE  DEATH  OF  KWASIND        .             .             .  213 

XIX.    THE  GHOSTS         .....  250 

XX.    THE  FAMINE 262 

XXI.    THE  WHITE  MAN?S  FOOT          ...  272 

xxii.  HIAWATHA'S  DEPARTURE      .  289 

NOTES 297 




SHOULD  you  ask  me,  whence  these  stories  ? 
Whence  these  legends  and  traditions, 
"With  the  odours  of  the  forest, 
With  the  dew  and  damp  of  meadows, 
With  the  curling  smoke  of  wigwams, 
With  the  rushing  of  great  rivers, 
With  their  frequent  repetitions, 
And  their  wild  reverberations, 
As  of  thunder  in  the  mountains  ? 

I  should  answer,  I  should  tell  you, 
"  From  the  forests  and  the  prairies, 
From  the  great  lakes  of  the  Northland, 


From  the  land  of  the  Ojibways, 

From  the  land  of  the  Dacotahs, 

From  the  mountains,  moors,  and  fenlands, 

Where  the  heron,  the  Shuh-shuh-gah, 

Feeds  among  the  reeds  and  rushes. 

I  repeat  them  as  I  heard  them 

From  the  lips  of  Nawadaha, 

The  musician,  the  sweet  singer." 

Should  you  ask  where  Nawadaha 
Found  these  songs,  so  wild  and  wayward, 
Found  these  legends  and  traditions, 
I  should  answer,  I  should  tell  you, 
"  In  the  bird's-nests  of  the  forest, 
In  the  lodges  of  the  beaver, 
In  the  hoof-prints  of  the  bison, 
In  the  eyry  of  the  eagle  ! 

tf  All  the  wild-fowl  sang  them  to  him, 
In  the  moorlands  and  the  fenlands, 
In  the  melancholy  marshes  ; 
Chetowaik,  the  plover,  sang  them, 


Mahng,  the  loon,  the  wild  goose,  Wawa, 
The  blue  heron,  the  Shuh-shuh-gah, 
And  the  grouse,  the  Mushkodasa ! " 

If  still  further  you  should  ask  me, 
Saying,  "  Who  was  Nawadaha  ? 
Tell  us  of  this  Nawadaha," 
I  should  answer  your  inquiries 
Straightway  in  such  words  as  follow. 

"  In  the  Yale  of  Tawasentha, 
In  the  green  and  silent  valley, 
By  the  pleasant  water-courses, 
Dwelt  the  singer  Nawadaha. 
Round  about  the  Indian  village 
Spread  the  meadows  and  the  corn-fields, 
And  beyond  them  stood  the  forest, 
Stood  the  groves  of  singing  pine-trees, 
Green  in  Summer,  white  in  Winter, 
Ever  sighing,  ever  singing. 

"  And  the  pleasant  water-courses, 
You  could  trace  them  through  the  valley, 


By  the  rushing  in  the  Spring-time, 
By  the  alders  in  the  Summer, 
By  the  white  fog  in  the  Autumn, 
By  the  black  line  in  the  Winter ; 
And  beside  them  dwelt  the  singer, 
In  the  Yale  of  Tawasentha, 
In  the  green  and  silent  valley. 

ee  There  he  sung  of  Hiawatha, 
Sang  the  Song  of  Hiawatha, 
Sang  his  wondrous  birth  and  being, 
How  he  prayed  and  how  he  fasted, 
How  he  lived,  and  toiled,  and  suffered, 
That  the  tribes  of  men  might  prosper, 
That  he  might  advance  his  people ! " 

Ye  who  love  the  haunts  of  Nature, 
Love  the  sunshine  of  the  meadow, 
Love  the  shadow  of  the  forest, 
Love  the  wind  among  the  branches, 
And  the  rain-shower  and  the  snow-storm, 
And  the  rushing  of  great  rivers 


Through  their  palisades  of  pine-trees, 
And  the  thunder  in  the  mountains, 
Whose  innumerable  echoes 
Flap  like  eagles  in  their  eyries;  — 
Listen  to  these  wild  traditions, 
To  this  Song  of  Hiawatha ! 

Ye  who  love  a  nation's  legends, 
Love  the  ballads  of  a  people, 
That  like  voices  from  afar  off 
Call  to  us  to  pause  and  listen, 
Speak  in  tones  so  plain  and  childlike, 
Scarcely  can  the  ear  distinguish 
Whether  they  are  sung  or  spoken ;  — 
Listen  to  this  Indian  Legend, 
To  this  Song  of  Hiawatha  ! 

Ye  whose  hearts  are  fresh  and  simple, 
Who  have  faith  in  God  and  Nature, 
Who  believe,  that  in  all  ages 
Every  human  heart  is  human, 
That  in  even  savage  bosoms 


There  are  longings,  yearnings,  strivings 
For  the  good  they  comprehend  not, 
That  the  feeble  hands  and  helpless, 
Groping  blindly  in  the  darkness, 
Touch  God's  right  hand  in  that  darkness 
And  are  lifted  up  and  strengthened ;  — 
Listen  to  this  simple  story, 
To  this  Song  of  Hiawatha ! 

Ye,  who  sometimes,  in  your  rambles 
Through  the  green  lanes  of  the  country, 
Where  the  tangled  barberry-bushes 
Hang  their  tufts  of  crimson  berries 
Over  stone  walls  gray  with  mosses, 
Pause  by  some  neglected  graveyard, 
For  a  while  to  muse,  and  ponder 
On  a  half-effaced  inscription, 
Written  with  little  skill  of  song-craft, 
Homely  phrases,  but  each  letter 
Full  of  hope  and  yet  of  heart-break, 
Full  of  all  the  tender  pathos 


Of  the  Here  and  the  Hereafter :  — 
Stay  and  read  this  rude  inscription. 
Read  this  Song  of  Hiawatha  ! 


ON  the  Mountains  of  the  Prairie, 
On  the  great  Red  Pipe-stone  Quarry, 
Gitche  Manito,  the  mighty, 
He  the  Master  of  Life,  descending, 
On  the  red  crags  of  the  quarry 
Stood  erect,  and  called  the  nations, 
Called  the  tribes  of  men  together. 

From  his  foot-prints  flowed  a  river, 
Leaped  into  the  light  of  morning, 
O'er  the  precipice  plunging  downward 
Gleamed  like  Ishkoodah,  the  comet. 
And  the  Spirit,  stooping  earthward, 
With  his  finger  on  the  meadow 


Traced  a  winding  pathway  for  it, 
Saying  to  it,  "  Run  in  this  way ! " 

From  the  red  stone  of  the  quarry 
With  his  hand  he  broke  a  fragment, 
Moulded  it  into  a  pipe-head. 
Shaped  and  fashioned  it  with  figures  ; 
From  the  margin  of  the  river 
Took  a  long  reed  for  a  pipe-stem, 
With  its  dark  green  leaves  upon  it ; 
Filled  the  pipe  with  bark  of  willow ; 
With  the  bark  of  the  red  willow ; 
Breathed  upon  the  neighbouring  forest, 
Made  its  great  boughs  chafe  together, 
Till  in  flame  they  burst  and  kindled ; 
And  erect  upon  the  mountains, 
Gitche  Manito,  the  mighty, 
Smoked  the  calumet,  the  Peace-Pipe, 
As  a  signal  to  the  nations. 

And  the  smoke  rose  slowly  ^  slowly, 
Through  the  tranquil  air  of  morning, 


First  a  single  line  of  darkness. 
Then  a  denser,  bluer  vapour, 
Then  a  snow-white  cloud  unfolding, 
Like  the  tree-tops  of  the  forest, 
Ever  rising,  rising,  rising, 
Till  it  touched  the  top  of  heaven, 
Till  it  broke  against  the  heaven, 
And  rolled  outward  all  around  it. 

From  the  Vale  of  Tawasentha, 
From  the  Valley  of  Wyoming, 
From  the  groves  of  Tuscaloosa, 
From  the  far-off  Rocky  Mountains, 
From  the  Northern  lakes  and  rivers, 
All  the  tribes  beheld  the  signal, 
Saw  the  distant  smoke  ascending, 
The  Pukwana  of  the  Peace-Pipe. 

And  the  Prophets  of  the  nations 
Said :  "  Behold  it,  the  Pukwana ! 
By  this  signal  from  afar  off, 
Bending  like  a  wand  of  willow, 


Waving  like  a  hand  that  beckons, 
Gitche  Manito,  the  mighty, 
Calls  the  tribes  of  men  together, 
Calls  the  warriors  to  his  council ! " 

Down  the  rivers,  o'er  the  prairies, 
Came  the  warriors  of  the  nations, 
Came  the  Delawares  and  Mohawks, 
Came  the  Choctaws  and  Camanches, 
Came  the  Shoshonies  and  Blackfeet, 
Came  the  Pawnees  and  Omawhaws, 
Came  the  Mandans  and  Dacotahs, 
Came  the  Hurons  and  Ojibways, 
All  the  warriors  drawn  together 
By  the  signal  of  the  Peace-Pipe, 
To  the  Mountains  of  the  Prairie, 
To  the  great  Red  Pipe-stone  Quarry. 

And  they  stood  there  on  the  meadow, 
With  their  weapons  and  their  war-gear, 
Painted  like  the  leaves  of  Autumn, 
Painted  like  the  sky  of  morning, 


Wildly  glaring  at  each  other ; 
In  their  faces  stern  defiance, 
In  their  hearts  the  feuds  of  ages. 
The  hereditary  hatred, 
The  ancestral  thirst  of  vengeance. 

Gitche  Manito,  the  mighty, 
The  creator  of  the  nations, 
Looked  upon  them  with  compassion, 
With  paternal  love  and  pity ; 
Looked  upon  their  wrath  and  wrangling 
But  as  quarrels  among  children, 
But  as  feuds  and  fights  of  children  ! 

Over  them  he  stretched  his  right  hand, 
To  subdue  their  stubborn  natures, 
To  allay  their  thirst  and  fever, 
By  the  shadow  of  his  right  hand ; 
Spake  to  them  with  voice  majestic 
As  the  sound  of  far-off  waters, 
Falling  into  deep  abysses, 
Warning,  chiding,  spake  in  this  wise  :  — 


"  O  my  children !  my  poor  children  ! 
Listen  to  the  words  of  wisdom, 
Listen  to  the  words  of  warning, 
From  the  lips  of  the  Great  Spirit, 
From  the  Master  of  Life,  who  made  you  ! 

"  I  have  given  you  lands  to  hunt  in, 
I  have  given  you  streams  to  fish  in, 
I  have  given  you  bear  and  bison, 
I  have  given  you  roe  and  reindeer, 
I  have  given  you  brant  and  beaver, 
Filled  the  marshes  full  of  wild-fowl, 
Filled  the  rivers  full  of  fishes ; 
Why  then  are  you  not  contented  ? 
Why  then  will  you  hunt  each  other  ? 

"  I  am  weary  of  your  quarrels, 
Weary  of  your  wars  and  bloodshed, 
Weary  of  your  prayers  for  vengeance, 
Of  your  wranglings  and  dissensions ; 
All  your  strength  is  in  your  union, 
All  your  danger  is  in  discord ; 


Therefore  be  at  peace  henceforward, 
And  as  brothers  live  together. 

"  I  will  send  a  Prophet  to  you, 
A  Deliverer  of  the  nations, 
Who  shall  guide  you  and  shall  teach  you, 
Who  shall  toil  and  suffer  with  you. 
If  you  listen  to  his  counsels, 
You  will  multiply  and  prosper ; 
If  his  warnings  pass  unheeded, 
You  will  fade  away  and  perish ! 

"  Bathe  now  in  the  stream  before  you, 
Wash  the  war-paint  from  your  faces, 
Wash  the  blood-stains  from  your  fingers, 
Bury  your  war-clubs  and  your  weapons, 
Break  the  red  stone  from  this  quarry, 
Mould  and  make  it  into  Peace-Pipes, 
Take  the  reeds  that  grow  beside  you, 
Deck  them  with  your  brightest  feathers, 
Smoke  the  calumet  together, 
And  as  brothers  live  henceforward  !" 



Then  upon  the  ground  the  warriors 
Threw  their  cloaks  and  shirts  of  deer-skin, 
Threw  their  weapons  and  their  war-gear, 
Leaped  into  the  rushing  river, 
Washed  the  war-paint  from  their  faces. 
Clear  above  them  flowed  the  water, 
Clear  and  limpid  from  the  footprints 
Of  the  Master  of  Life  descending ; 
Dark  below  them  flowed  the  water, 
Soiled  and  stained  with  streaks  of  crimson, 
As  if  blood  were  mingled  with  it ! 

From  the  river  came  the  warriors, 
Clean  and  washed  from  all  their  war-paint ; 
On  the  banks  their  clubs  they  buried, 
Buried  all  their  warlike  weapons. 
Gitche  Manito,  the  mighty, 
The  Great  Spirit,  the  creator, 
Smiled  upon  his  helpless  children  ! 

And  in  silence  all  the  warriors 
Broke  the  red  stone  of  the  quarry, 


Smoothed  and  formed  it  into  Peace-Pipes, 
Broke  the  long  reeds  by  the  river. 
Decked  them  with  their  brightest  feathers, 
And  departed  each  one  homeward, 
While  the  Master  of  Life,  ascending, 
Through  the  opening  of  cloud-curtains, 
Through  the  doorways  of  the  heaven, 
Vanished  from  before  their  faces, 
In  the  smoke  that  rolled  around  him, 
The  Pukwana  of  the  Peace-Pipe  ! 



"  HONOUR  be  to  Mudjekeewis !  " 
Cried  the  warriors,  cried  the  old  men, 
When  he  came  in  triumph  homeward 
With  the  sacred  Belt  of  Wampum, 
From  the  regions  of  the  North- Wind, 
From  the  kingdom  of  Wabasso, 
From  the  land  of  the  White  Rabbit. 

He  had  stolen  the  Belt  of  Wampum 
From  the  neck  of  Mishe-Mokwa, 
From  the  Great  Bear  of  the  mountains, 
From  the  terror  of  the  nations, 
As  he  lay  asleep  and  cumbrous 


On  the  summit  of  the  mountains, 
Like  a  rock  with  mosses  on  it, 
Spotted  brown  and  gray  with  mosses. 

Silently  he  stole  upon  him, 
Till  the  red  nails  of  the  monster 
Almost  touched  him,  almost  scared  him, 
Till  the  hot  breath  of  his  nostrils 
Warmed  the  hands  of  Mudjekeewis, 
As  he  drew  the  Belt  of  Wampum 
Over  the  round  ears,  that  heard  not, 
Over  the  small  eyes,  that  saw  not, 
Over  the  long  nose  and  nostrils, 
The  black  muffle  of  the  nostrils, 
Out  of  which  the  heavy  breathing 
Warmed  the  hands  of  Mudjekeewis. 

Then  he  swung  aloft  his  war-club, 
Shouted  loud  and  long  his  war-cry, 
Smote  the  mighty  Mishe-Mokwa 
In  the  middle  of  the  forehead, 
Right  between  the  eyes  he  smote  him. 


With  the  heavy  blow  bewildered, 
Rose  the  Great  Bear  of  the  mountains ; 
But  his  knees  beneath  him  trembled. 
And  he  whimpered  like  a  woman, 
As  he  reeled  and  staggered  forward, 
As  he  sat  upon  his  haunches ; 
And  the  mighty  Mudjekeewis, 
Standing  fearlessly  before  him, 
Taunted  him  in  loud  derision, 
Spake  disdainfully  in  this  wise  : — 

"  Hark  you,  Bear !  you  are  a  coward, 
And  no  Brave,  as  you  pretended ; 
Else  you  would  not  cry  and  whimper 
Like  a  miserable  woman  ! 
Bear !  you  know  our  tribes  are  hostile, 
Long  have  been  at  war  together ; 
Now  you  find  that  we  are  strongest, 
You  go  sneaking  in  the  forest, 
You  go  hiding  in  the  mountains  ! 
Had  you  conquered  me  in  battle 


Not  a  groan  would  I  have  uttered ; 
But  you,  Bear !  sit  here  and  whimper, 
And  disgrace  your  tribe  by  crying, 
Like  a  wretched  Shaugodaya, 
Like  a  cowardly  old  woman ! " 

Then  again  he  raised  his  war-club, 
Smote  again  the  Mishe-Mokwa 
In  the  middle  of  his  forehead, 
Broke  his  skull,  as  ice  is  broken 
When  one  goes  to  fish  in  Winter. 
Thus  was  slain  the  Mishe-Mokwa, 
He  the  Great  Bear  of  the  mountains, 
He  the  terror  of  the  nations. 

"  Honour  be  to  Mudjekeewis  ! " 
With  a  shout  exclaimed  the  people, 
"  Honour  be  to  Mudjekeewis  ! 
Henceforth  he  shall  be  the  West- Wind, 
And  hereafter  and  for  ever 
Shall  he  hold  supreme  dominion 
Over  all  the  winds  of  heaven. 


Call  him  no  more  Mudjekeewis, 
Call  him  Kabeyun,  the  West- Wind!" 

Thus  was  Mudjekeewis  chosen 
Father  of  the  Winds  of  Heaven. 
For  himself  he  kept  the  West- Wind, 
Gave  the  others  to  his  children ; 
Unto  Wabun  gave  the  East- Wind. 
Gave  the  South  to  Shawondasee, 
And  the  North- Wind,  wild  and  cruel, 
To  the  fierce  Kabibonokka, 

Young  and  beautiful  was  Wabun ; 
He  it  was  who  brought  the  morning, 
He  it  was  whose  silver  arrows 
Chased  the  dark  o'er  hill  and  valley ; 
He  it  was  whose  cheeks  were  painted 
With  the  brightest  streaks  of  crimson, 
And  whose  voice  awoke  the  village, 
Called  the  deer,  and  called  the  hunter. 

Lonely  in  the  sky  was  Wabun ; 
Though  the  birds  sang  gayly  to  him, 


Though  the  wild-flowers  of  the  meadow 
Filled  the  air  with  odours  for  him. 
Though  the  forests  and  the  rivers 
Sang  and  shouted  at  his  coming, 
Still  his  heart  was  sad  within  him, 
For  he  was  alone  in  heaven. 

But  one  morning,  gazing  earthward, 
While  the  village  still  was  sleeping, 
And  the  fog  lay  on  the  river, 
Like  a  ghost,  that  goes  at  sunrise, 
He  beheld  a  maiden  walking 
All  alone  upon  a  meadow, 
Gathering  water-flags  and  rushes 
By  a  river  in  the  meadow. 

Every  morning,  gazing  earthward, 
Still  the  first  thing  he  beheld  there 
Was  her  blue  eyes  looking  at  him, 
Two  blue  lakes  among  the  rushes. 
And  he  loved  the  lonely  maiden, 
Who  thus  waited  for  his  coming ; 


For  they  both  were  solitary, 
She  on  earth  and  he  in  heaven. 

And  he  wooed  her  with  caresses, 
Wooed  her  with  his  smile  of  sunshine, 
With  his  flattering  words  he  wooed  her, 
With  his  sighing  and  his  singing, 
Gentlest  whispers  in  the  branches, 
Softest  music,  sweetest  odours, 
Till  he  drew  her  to  his  bosom, 
Folded  in  his  robes  of  crimson, 
Till  into  a  star  he  changed  her, 
Trembling  still  upon  his  bosom  ; 
And  for  ever  in  the  heavens 
They  are  seen  together  walking, 
Wabun  and  the  Wabun-Annung, 
Wabun  and  the  Star  of  Morning. 

But  the  fierce  Kabibonokka 
Had  his  dwelling  among  icebergs, 
In  the  everlasting  snow-drifts, 
In  the  kingdom  of  Wabasso, 


In  the  land  of  the  White  Rabbit. 
He  it  was  whose  hand  in  Autumn 
Painted  all  the  trees  with  scarlet, 
Stained  the  leaves  with  red  and  yellow  ; 
He  it  was  who  sent  the  snow-flakes, 
Sifting,  hissing  through  the  forest, 
Froze  the  ponds,  the  lakes,  the  rivers, 
Drove  the  loon  and  sea-gull  southward, 
Drove  the  cormorant  and  heron 
To  their  nests  of  sedge  and  sea-tang 
In  the  realms  of  Shawondasee. 

Once  the  fierce  Kabibonokka 
Issued  from  his  lodge  of  snow-drifts, 
From  his  home  among  the  icebergs, 
And  his  hair,  with  snow  besprinkled, 
Streamed  behind  him  like  a  river, 
Like  a  black  and  wintry  river, 
As  he  howled  and  hurried  southward, 
Over  frozen  lakes  and  moorlands. 

There  among  the  reeds  and  rushes 


Found  he  Shingebis,  the  diver, 
Trailing  strings  of  fish  behind  him, 
O'er  the  frozen  fens  and  moorlands, 
Lingering  still  among  the  moorlands, 
Though  his  tribe  had  long  departed 
To  the  land  of  Shawondasee. 

Cried  the  fierce  Kabibonokka, 
<c  Who  is  this  that  dares  to  brave  me  ? 
Dares  to  stay  in  my  dominions 
When  the  Wawa  has  departed, 
When  the  wild-goose  has  gone  southward, 
And  the  heron,  the  Shuh-shuh-gah, 
Long  ago  departed  southward  ? 
I  will  go  into  his  wigwam, 
I  will  put  his  smouldering  fire  out ! " 

And  at  night  Kabibonokka 
To  the  lodge  came  wild  and  wailing, 
Heaped  the  snow  in  drifts  about  it, 
Shouted  down  into  the  smoke-flue, 
Shook  the  lodge-poles  in  his  fury, 


Flapped  the  curtain  of  the  doorway. 
Shingebis,  the  diver,  feared  not, 
Shingebis,  the  diver,  cared  not ; 
Four  great  logs  had  he  for  fire-wood, 
One  for  each  moon  of  the  winter, 
And  for  food  the  fishes  served  him. 
By  his  blazing  fire  he  sat  there, 
Warm  and  merry,  eating,  laughing, 
Singing,  "  O  Kabibonokka, 
You  are  but  my  fellow-mortal ! " 

Then  Kabibonokka  entered, 
And  though  Shingebis,  the  diver, 
Felt  his  presence  by  the  coldness, 
Felt  his  icy  breath  upon  him, 
Still  he  did  not  cease  his  singing, 
Still  he  did  not  leave  his  laughing, 
Only  turned  the  log  a  little, 
Only  made  the  fire  burn  brighter, 
Made  the  sparks  fly  up  the  smoke-flue. 

From  Kabibonokka's  forehead, 


From  his  snow-besprinkled  tresses, 

Drops  of  sweat  fell  fast  and  heavy, 

Making  dints  upon  the  ashes, 

As  along  the  eaves  of  lodges, 

As  from  drooping  boughs  of  hemlock, 

Drips  the  melting  snow  in  spring-time, 

Making  hollows  in  the  snow-drifts. 

Till  at  last  he  rose  defeated, 
Could  not  bear  the  heat  and  laughter, 
Could  not  bear  the  merry  singing, 
But  rushed  headlong  through  the  doorway, 
Stamped  upon  the  crusted  snow-drifts, 
Stamped  upon  the  lakes  and  rivers, 
Made  the  snow  upon  them  harder, 
Made  the  ice  upon  them  thicker, 
Challenged  Shingebis,  the  diver, 
To  come  forth  and  wrestle  with  him, 
To  come  forth  and  wrestle  naked 
On  the  frozen  fens  and  moorlands. 

Forth  went  Shingebis,  the  diver, 


Wrestled  all  night  with  the  North-Wind, 
Wrestled  naked  on  the  moorlands 
With  the  fierce  Kabibonokka, 
Till  his  panting  breath  grew  fainter, 
Till  his  frozen  grasp  grew  feebler, 
Till  he  reeled  and  staggered  backward, 
And  retreated,  baffled,  beaten, 
To  the  kingdom  of  Wabasso, 
To  the  land  of  the  White  Rabbit, 
Hearing  still  the  gusty  laughter, 
Hearing  Shingebis,  the  diver, 
Singing,  "  O  Kabibonokka, 
You  are  but  my  fellow-mortal ! " 

Shawondasee,  fat  and  lazy, 
Had  his  dwelling  far  to  southward, 
In  the  drowsy,  dreamy  sunshine, 
In  the  never-ending  Summer. 
He  it  was  who  sent  the  wood-birds, 
Sent  the  Opechee,  the  robin, 
Sent  the  blue-bird,  the  Owaissa, 


Sent  the  Shawshaw,  sent  the  swallow, 
Sent  the  wild-goose,  Wawa,  northward, 
Sent  the  melons  and  tobacco, 
And  the  grapes  in  purple  clusters. 

From  his  pipe  the  smoke  ascending 
Filled  the  sky  with  haze  and  vapour, 
Filled  the  air  with  dreamy  softness, 
Gave  a  twinkle  to  the  water, 
Touched  the  rugged  hills  with  smoothness, 
Brought  the  tender  Indian  Summer, 
In  the  Moon  when  nights  are  brightest, 
In  the  dreary  Moon  of  Snow-shoes. 

Listless,  careless  Shawondasee! 
In  his  life  he  had  one  shadow, 
In  his  heart  one  sorrow  had  he. 
Once,  as  he  was  gazing  northward, 
Far  away  upon  a  prairie 
He  beheld  a  maiden  standing, 
Saw  a  tall  and  slender  maiden 
All  alone  upon  a  prairie ; 


Brightest  green  were  all  her  garments, 
And  her  hair  was  like  the  sunshine. 

Day  by  day  he  gazed  upon  her, 
Day  by  day  he  sighed  with  passion, 
Day  by  day  his  heart  within  him 
Grew  more  hot  with  love  and  longing 
For  the  maid  with  yellow  tresses. 
But  he  was  too  fat  and  lazy 
To  bestir  himself  and  woo  her ; 
Yes,  too  indolent  and  easy 
To  pursue  her  and  persuade  her. 
So  he  only  gazed  upon  her, 
Only  sat  and  sighed  with  passion 
For  the  maiden  of  the  prairie. 

Till  one  morning,  looking  northward, 
He  beheld  her  yellow  tresses 
Changed  and  covered  o'er  with  whiteness, 
Covered  as  with  whitest  snow-flakes. 
"  Ah !  my  brother  from  the  North-land, 
From  the  kingdom  of  Wabasso, 



From  the  land  of  the  White  Rabbit  I 
You  have  stolen  the  maiden  from  me, 
You  have  laid  your  hand  upon  her, 
You  have  wooed  and  won  my  maiden, 
With  your  stories  of  the  North-land  I" 

Thus  the  wretched  Shawondasee 
Breathed  into  the  air  his  sorrow ; 
And  the  South- Wind  o'er  the  prairie 
Wandered  warm  with  sighs  of  passion, 
With  the  sighs  of  Shawondasee, 
Till  the  air  seemed  full  of  snow-flakes, 
Full  of  thistle-down  the  prairie, 
And  the  maid  with  hair  like  sunshine 
Vanished  from  his  sight  for  ever ; 
Never  more  did  Shawondasee 
See  the  maid  with  yellow  tresses  ! 

Poor  deluded  Shawondasee ! 
T  was  no  woman  that  you  gazed  at, 
'T  was  no  maiden  that  you  sighed  for, 
'T  was  the  prairie  dandelion 


That  through  all  the  dreamy  Summer 
You  had  gazed  at  with  such  longing, 
You  had  sighed  for  with  such  passion, 
And  had  puffed  away  for  ever, 
Blown  into  the  air  with  sighing. 
Ah  !  deluded  Shawondasee ! 

Thus  the  Four  Winds  were  divided; 
Thus  the  sons  of  Mudjekeewis 
Had  their  stations  in  the  heavens, 
At  the  corners  of  the  heavens ; 
For  himself  the  West- Wind  only 
Kept  the  mighty  Mudjekeewis. 



DOWNWARD  through  the  evening  twilight, 
In  the  days  that  are  forgotten, 
In  the  unremembered  ages, 
From  the  full  moon  fell  Nokomis, 
Fell  the  beautiful  Nokomis, 
She  a  wife,  but  not  a  mother. 

She  was  sporting  with  her  women, 
Swinging  in  a  swing  of  grape-vines, 
When  her  rival,  the  rejected, 
Full  of  jealousy  and  hatred, 
Cut  the  leafy  swing  asunder, 
Cut  in  twain  the  twisted  grape-vines, 


And  Nokomis  fell  affrighted 

Downward  through  the  evening  twilight, 

On  the  Muskoday,  the  meadow, 

On  the  prairie  full  of  blossoms. 

"  See  !  a  star  falls  ! "  said  the  people  ; 

' '  From  the  sky  a  star  is  falling  ! " 

There  among  the  ferns  and  mosses, 
There  among  the  prairie  lilies, 
On  the  Muskoday,  the  meadow, 
In  the  moonlight  and  the  starlight, 
Fair  Nokomis  bore  a  daughter. 
And  she  called  her  name  Wenonah, 
As  the  first-born  of  her  daughters. 
And  the  daughter  of  Nokomis 
Grew  up  like  the  prairie  lilies, 
Grew  a  tall  and  slender  maiden, 
With  the  beauty  of  the  moonlight, 
With  the  beauty  of  the  starlight. 

And  Nokomis  warned  her  often, 
Saying  oft,  and  oft  repeating, 


"  O,  beware  of  Mudjekeewis, 

Of  the  West- Wind,  Mudjekeewis ; 

Listen  not  to  what  he  tells  you ; 

Lie  not  down  upon  the  meadow, 

Stoop  not  down  among  the  lilies, 

Lest  the  West- Wind  come  and  harm  you ! " 

But  she  heeded  not  the  warning, 
Heeded  not  those  words  of  wisdom, 
And  the  West- Wind  came  at  evening, 
Walking  lightly  o'er  the  prairie, 
Whispering  to  the  leaves  and  blossoms, 
Bending  low  the  flowers  and  grasses, 
Found  the  beautiful  Wenonah, 
Lying  there  among  the  lilies, 
Wooed  her  with  his  words  of  sweetness, 
Wooed  her  with  his  soft  caresses, 
Till  she  bore  a  son  in  sorrow, 
Bore  a  son  of  love  and  sorrow. 

Thus  was  born  my  Hiawatha, 
Thus  was  born  the  child  of  wonder ; 


But  the  daughter  of  Nokomis, 

Hiawatha's  gentle  mother, 

In  her  anguish  died  deserted 

By  the  West- Wind,  false  and  faithless, 

By  the  heartless  Mudjekeewis. 

For  her  daughter,  long  and  loudly 
Wailed  and  wept  the  sad  Nokomis ; 
"  O  that  I  were  dead ! "  she  murmured, 
"  O  that  I  were  dead,  as  thou  art ! 
No  more  work,  and  no  more  weeping, 
Wahonomin,  Wahonomin  ! " 

By  the  shores  of  Gitche  Gumee, 
By  the  shining  Big- Sea- Water, 
Stood  the  wigwam  of  Nokomis, 
Daughter  of  the  Moon,  Nokomis. 
Dark  behind  it  rose  the  forest, 
Rose  the  black  and  gloomy  pine-trees, 
Rose  the  firs  with  cones  upon  them ; 
Bright  before  it  beat  the  water, 
Beat  the  clear  and  sunny  water, 


Beat  the  shining  Big-Sea-Water. 

There  the  wrinkled,  old  Nokomis 
Nursed  the  little  Hiawatha, 
Rocked  him  in  his  linden  cradle, 
Bedded  soft  in  moss  and  rushes, 
Safely  bound  with  reindeer  sinews ; 
Stilled  his  fretful  wail  by  saying, 
"  Hush !  the  Naked  Bear  will  get  thee  !" 
Lulled  him  into  slumber,  singing, 
f<  Ewa-yea  !  my  little  owlet ! 
Who  is  this,  that  lights  the  wigwam  ? 
With  his  great  eyes  lights  the  wigwam ! 
Ewa-yea !  my  little  owlet ! " 

Many  things  Nokomis  taught  him 
Of  the  stars  that  shine  in  heaven ; 
Showed  him  Ishkoodah,  the  comet, 
Ishkoodah,  with  fiery  tresses ; 
Showed  the  Death-Dance  of  the  spirits, 
Warriors  with  their  plumes  and  war-clubs, 
Flaring  far  away  to  northward 


In  the  frosty  nights  of  Winter  ; 
Showed  the  broad,  white  road  in  heaven, 
Pathway  of  the  ghosts,  the  shadows, 
Running  straight  across  the  heavens, 
Crowded  with  the  ghosts,  the  shadows. 

At  the  door  on  summer  evenings 
Sat  the  little  Hiawatha ; 
Heard  the  whispering  of  the  pine-trees, 
Heard  the  lapping  of  the  water, 
Sounds  of  music,  words  of  wonder ; 
"  Mirme-wawa  ! "  said  the  pine-trees, 
"  Mudway-aushka  ! "  said  the  water. 

Saw  the  fire-fly,  Wah-wah-taysee, 
Flitting  through  the  dusk  of  evening, 
With  the  twinkle  of  its  candle 
Lighting  up  the  brakes  and  bushes, 
And  he  sang  the  song  of  children, 
Sang  the  song  Nokomis  taught  him : 
"  Wah-wah-taysee,  little  fire-fly, 
Little,  flitting,  white-fire  insect, 


Little,  dancing,  white-fire  creature, 
Light  me  with  your  little  candle, 
Ere  upon  my  bed  I  lay  me, 
Ere  in  sleep  I  close  my  eyelids !" 

Saw  the  moon  rise  from  the  water 
Rippling,  rounding  from  the  water, 
Saw  the  flecks  and  shadows  on  it, 
Whispered,  "  What  is  that,  Nokomis?" 
And  the  good  Nokomis  answered : 
"  Once  a  warrior,  very  angry, 
Seized  his  grandmother,  and  threw  her 
Up  into  the  sky  at  midnight ; 
Right  against  the  moon  he  threw  her ; 
'T  is  her  body  that  you  see  there." 

Saw  the  rainbow  in  the  heaven, 
In  the  eastern  sky,  the  rainbow, 
Whispered,  "  What  is  that,  Nokomis?" 
And  the  good  Nokomis  answered : 
<(  'T  is  the  heaven  of  flowers  you  see  there ; 
All  the  wild-flowers  of  the  forest, 


All  the  lilies  of  the  prairie, 

When  on  earth  they  fade  and  perish. 

Blossom  in  that  heaven  above  us." 

When  he  heard  the  owls  at  midnight, 
Hooting,  laughing  in  the  forest, 
"  What  is  that?"  he  cried  in  terror ; 
"  What  is  that?"  he  said,  "  Nokomis  ?" 
And  the  good  Nokomis  answered  : 
"  That  is  but  the  owl  and  owlet, 
Talking  in  their  native  language, 
Talking,  scolding  at  each  other." 

Then  the  little  Hiawatha 
Learned  of  every  bird  its  language, 
Learned  their  names  and  all  their  secrets, 
How  they  built  their  nests  in  Summer, 
Where  they  hid  themselves  in  Winter, 
Talked  with  them  whene'er  he  met  them, 
Called  them  "  Hiawatha's  Chickens." 

Of  all  beasts  he  learned  the  language, 
Learned  their  names  and  all  their  secrets, 


How  the  beavers  built  their  lodges, 
Where  the  squirrels  hid  their  acorns, 
How  the  reindeer  ran  so  swiftly, 
Why  the  rabbit  was  so  timid, 
Talked  with  them  whene'er  he  met  them, 
Called  them  "  Hiawatha's  Brothers." 

Then  lagoo,  the  great  boaster, 
He  the  marvellous  story-teller, 
He  the  traveller  and  the  talker, 
He  the  friend  of  old  Nokomis, 
Made  a  bow  for  Hiawatha  ; 
From  a  branch  of  ash  he  made  it, 
From  an  oak-bough  made  the  arrows, 
Tipped  with  flint,  and  winged  with  feathers, 
And  the  cord  he  made  of  deer-skin. 

Then  he  said  to  Hiawatha : 
"  Go,  my  son,  into  the  forest, 
Where  the  red  deer  herd  together, 
Kill  for  us  a  famous  roebuck, 
Kill  for  us  a  deer  with  antlers !" 


Forth  into  the  forest  straightway 
All  alone  walked  Hiawatha 
Proudly,  with  his  bow  and  arrows ; 
And  the  birds  sang  round  him,  o'er  him, 
"  Do  not  shoot  us,  Hiawatha  !" 
Sang  the  Opechee,  the  robin, 
Sang  the  blue-bird,  the  Owaissa, 
"  Do  not  shoot  us,  Hiawatha  ! " 

Up  the  oak-tree,  close  beside  him, 
Sprang  the  squirrel,  Adjidaumo, 
In  and  out  among  the  branches, 
Coughed  and  chattered  from  the  oak-tree, 
Laughed,  and  said  between  his  laughing, 
"  Do  not  shoot  me,  Hiawatha ! " 

And  the  rabbit  from  his  pathway 
Leaped  aside,  and  at  a  distance 
Sat  erect  upon  his  haunches, 
Half  in  fear  and  half  in  frolic, 
Saying  to  the  little  hunter, 
"  Do  not  shoot  me,  Hiawatha ! " 


But  he  heeded  not,  nor  heard  them, 
For  his  thoughts  were  with  the  red  deer 
On  their  tracks  his  eyes  were  fastened, 
Leading  downward  to  the  river, 
To  the  ford  across  the  river, 
And  as  one  in  slumber  walked  he. 

Hidden  in  the  alder-bushes, 
There  he  waited  till  the  deer  came, 
Till  he  saw  two  antlers  lifted, 
Saw  two  eyes  look  from  the  thicket, 
Saw  two  nostrils  point  to  windward, 
And  a  deer  came  down  the  pathway, 
Flecked  with  leafy  light  and  shadow. 
And  his  heart  within  him  fluttered, 
Trembled  like  the  leaves  above  him, 
Like  the  birch-leaf  palpitated, 
As  the  deer  came  down  the  pathway. 

Then,  upon  one  knee  uprising, 
Hiawatha  aimed  an  arrow  : 
Scarce  a  twig  moved  with  his  motion, 


Scarce  a  leaf  was  stirred  or  rustled, 
But  the  wary  roebuck  started, 
Stamped  with  all  his  hoofs  together, 
Listened  with  one  foot  uplifted, 
Leaped  as  if  to  meet  the  arrow  ; 
Ah  !  the  singing,  fatal  arrow, 
Like  a  wasp  it  buzzed  and  stung  him ! 

Dead  he  lay  there  in  the  forest, 
By  the  ford  across  the  river ; 
Beat  his  timid  heart  no  longer, 
But  the  heart  of  Hiawatha 
Throbbed  and  shouted  and  exulted, 
As  he  bore  the  red  deer  homeward, 
And  lagoo  and  Nokomis 
Hailed  his  coming  with  applauses. 

From  the  red  deer's  hide  Nokomis 
Made  a  cloak  for  Hiawatha, 
From  the  red  deer's  flesh  Nokomis 
Made  a  banquet  in  his  honour. 
All  the  village  came  and  feasted, 


All  the  guests  praised  Hiawatha, 
Called  him  Strong-Heart,  Soange-taha ! 
Called  him  Loon-Heart,  Mahngo-taysee ! 



Our  of  childhood  into  manhood 
Now  had  grown  my  Hiawatha, 
Skilled  in  all  the  craft  of  hunters, 
Learned  in  all  the  lore  of  old  men, 
In  all  youthful  sports  and  pastimes, 
In  all  manly  arts  and  labours. 
Swift  of  foot  was  Hiawatha ; 
He  could  shoot  an  arrow  from  him, 
And  run  forward  with  such  fleetness, 
That  the  arrow  fell  behind  him ! 
Strong  of  arm  was  Hiawatha ; 
He  could  shoot  ten  arrows  upward, 


Shoot  them  with  such  strength  and  swiftness, 
That  the  tenth  had  left  the  bow-string 
Ere  the  first  to  earth  had  fallen  I 

He  had  mittens,  Minjekahwun, 
Magic  mittens  made  of  deer-skin ; 
When  upon  his  hands  he  wore  them, 
He  could  smite  the  rocks  asunder, 
He  could  grind  them  into  powder. 
He  had  moccasons  enchanted, 
Magic  moccasons  of  deer-skin ; 
When  he  bound  them  round  his  ankles, 
When  upon  his  feet  he  tied  them, 
At  each  stride  a  mile  he  measured ! 

Much  he  questioned  old  Nokomis 
Of  his  father  Mudjekeewis ; 
Learned  from  her  the  fatal  secret 
Of  the  beauty  of  his  mother, 
Of  the  falsehood  of  his  father ; 
And  his  heart  was  hot  within  him, 
Like  a  living  coal  his  heart  was. 


Then  he  said  to  old  Nokomis, 
"  I  will  go  to  Mudjekeewis, 
See  how  fares  it  with  my  father, 
At  the  doorways  of  the  West- Wind, 
At  the  portals  of  the  Sunset !" 

From  his  lodge  went  Hiawatha, 
Dressed  for  travel,  armed  for  hunting; 
Dressed  in  deer-skin  shirt  and  leggings, 
Richly  wrought  with  quills  and  wampum ; 
On  his  head  his  eagle-feathers, 
Round  his  waist  his  belt  of  wampum, 
In  his  hand  his  bow  of  ash-wood, 
Strung  with  sinews  of  the  reindeer ; 
In  his  quiver  oaken  arrows, 
Tipped  with  jasper,  winged  with  feathers ; 
With  his  mittens,  Minjekahwun, 
With  his  moccasons  enchanted. 

Warning  said  the  old  Nokomis, 
"  Go  not  forth,  O  Hiawatha  ! 
To  the  kingdom  of  the  West- Wind, 


To  the  realms  of  Mudjekeewis, 
Lest  he  harm  you  with  his  magic, 
Lest  he  kill  you  with  his  cunning ! " 

But  the  fearless  Hiawatha 
Heeded  not  her  woman's  warning ; 
Forth  he  strode  into  the  forest, 
At  each  stride  a  mile  he  measured ; 
Lurid  seemed  the  sky  above  him, 
Lurid  seemed  the  earth  beneath  him, 
Hot  and  close  the  air  around  him, 
Filled  with  smoke  and  fiery  vapours, 
As  of  burning  woods  and  prairies, 
For  his  heart  was  hot  within  him, 
Like  a  living  coal  his  heart  was. 

So  he  journeyed  westward,  westward, 
Left  the  fleetest  deer  behind  him, 
Left  the  antelope  and  bison ; 
Crossed  the  rushing  Esconawbaw, 
Crossed  the  mighty  Mississippi, 
Passed  the  Mountains  of  the  Prairie, 


Passed  the  land  of  Crows  and  Foxes, 
Passed  the  dwellings  of  the  Blackfeet, 
Came  unto  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
To  the  kingdom  of  the  West- Wind, 
Where  upon  the  gusty  summits 
Sat  the  ancient  Mudjekeewis, 
Ruler  of  the  winds  of  heaven. 

Filled  with  awe  was  Hiawatha 
At  the  aspect  of  his  father. 
On  the  air  about  him  wildly 
Tossed  and  streamed  his  cloudy  tresses, 
Gleamed  like  drifting  snow  his  tresses, 
Glared  like  Ishkoodah,  the  comet, 
Like  the  star  with  fiery  tresses. 

Filled  with  joy  was  Mudjekeewis 
When  he  looked  on  Hiawatha, 
Saw  his  youth  rise  up  before  him 
In  the  face  of  Hiawatha, 
Saw  the  beauty  of  Wenonah 
From  the  grave  rise  up  before  him. 


"  Welcome !"  said  he,  "  Hiawatha, 
To  the  kingdom  of  the  West- Wind ! 
Long  have  I  been  waiting  for  you ! 
Youth  is  lovely,  age  is  lonely, 
Youth  is  fiery,  age  is  frosty ;    • 
You  bring  back  the  days  departed, 
You  bring  back  my  youth  of  passion, 
And  the  beautiful  Wenonah  ! " 

Many  days  they  talked  together, 
Questioned,  listened,  waited,  answered ; 
Much  the  mighty  Mudjekeewis 
Boasted  of  his  ancient  prowess, 
Of  his  perilous  adventures, 
His  indomitable  courage, 
His  invulnerable  body. 

Patiently  sat  Hiawatha, 
Listening  to  his  father's  boasting ; 
With  a  smile  he  sat  and  listened, 
Uttered  neither  threat  nor  menace, 
Neither  word  nor  look  betrayed  him, 


But  his  heart  was  hot  within  him, 
Like  a  living  coal  his  heart  was. 

Then  he  said,  "  O  Mudjekeewis, 
Is  there  nothing  that  can  harm  you  ? 
Nothing  that  you  are  afraid  of  ?  " 
And  the  mighty  Mudjekeewis, 
Grand  and  gracious  in  his  boasting, 
Answered,  saying,  "  There  is  nothing, 
Nothing  but  the  black  rock  yonder, 
Nothing  but  the  fatal  Wawbeek !" 

And  he  looked  at  Hiawatha 
With  a  wise  look  and  benignant, 
With  a  countenance  paternal, 
Looked  with  pride  upon  the  beauty 
Of  his  tall  and  graceful  figure, 
Saying,  "  O  my  Hiawatha ! 
Is  there  anything  can  harm  you  ? 
Anything  you  are  afraid  of?" 

But  the  wary  Hiawatha 
Paused  awhile,  as  if  uncertain, 


Held  his  peace,  as  if  resolving, 
And  then  answered,  "  There  is  nothing, 
Nothing  but  the  bulrush  yonder, 
Nothing  but  the  great  Apukwa ! " 

And  as  Mudjekeewis,  rising, 
Stretched  his  hand  to  pluck  the  bulrush, 
Hiawatha  cried  in  terror, 
Cried  in  well-dissembled  terror, 
"  Kago !  kago !  do  not  touch  it ! " 
"Ah,  kaween!"  said  Mudjekeewis, 
"  No,  indeed,  I  will  not  touch  it ! " 

Then  they  talked  of  other  matters ; 
First  of  Hiawatha's  brothers, 
First  of  Wabun,  of  the  East- Wind, 
Of  the  South- Wind,  Shawondasee, 
Of  the  North,  Kabibonokka; 
Then  of  Hiawatha's  mother, 
Of  the  beautiful  Wenonah, 
Of  her  birth  upon  the  meadow, 
Of  her  death,  as  old  Nokomis 


Had  remembered  and  related. 

And  he  cried,  "  O  Mudjekeewis, 
It  was  you  who  killed  Wenonah, 
Took  her  young  life  and  her  beauty, 
Broke  the  Lily  of  the  Prairie, 
Trampled  it  beneath  your  footsteps ; 
You  confess  it !  you  confess  it ! " 
And  the  mighty  Mudjekeewis 
Tossed  his  gray  hairs  to  the  West- Wind, 
Bowed  his  hoary  head  in  anguish, 
With  a  silent  nod  assented. 

Then  up  started  Hiawatha, 
And  with  threatening  look  and  gesture 
Laid  his  hand  upon  the  black  rock, 

On  the  fatal  Wawbeek  laid  it, 

With  his  mittens,  Minjekahwun, 
Rent  the  jutting  crag  asunder, 
Smote  and  crushed  it  into  fragments, 
Hurled  them  madly  at  his  father, 
The  remorseful  Mudjekeewis. 


For  his  heart  was  hot  within  him, 
Like  a  living  coal  his  heart  was. 

But  the  ruler  of  the  West- Wind 
Blew  the  fragments  backward  from  him, 
With  the  breathing  of  his  nostrils, 
With  the  tempest  of  his  anger, 
Blew  them  back  at  his  assailant ; 
Seized  the  bulrush,  the  Apukwa, 
Dragged  it  with  its  roots  and  fibres 
From  the  margin  of  the  meadow, 
From  its  ooze,  the  giant  bulrush ; 
Long  and  loud  laughed  Hiawatha  ! 

Then  began  the  deadly  conflict, 
Hand  to  hand  among  the  mountains  ; 
From  his  eyrie  screamed  the  eagle, 
The  Keneu,  the  great  War-Eagle ; 
Sat  upon  the  crags  around  them, 
Wheeling  flapped  his  wings  above  them. 

Like  a  tall  tree  in  the  tempest 
Bent  and  lashed  the  giant  bulrush ; 


And  in  masses  huge  and  heavy 
Crashing  fell  the  fatal  Wawbeek  ; 
Till  the  earth  shook  with  the  tumult 
And  confusion  of  the  battle, 
And  the  air  was  full  of  shoutings, 
And  the  thunder  of  the  mountains, 
Starting,  answered,  "  Baim-wawa!" 

Back  retreated  Mudjekeewis, 
Rushing  westward  o'er  the  mountains, 
Stumbling  westward  down  the  mountains, 
Three  whole  days  retreated  fighting, 
Still  pursued  by  Hiawatha 
To  the  doorways  of  the  West- Wind, 
To  the  portals  of  the  Sunset, 
To  the  earth's  remotest  border, 
Where  into  the  empty  spaces 
Sinks  the  sun,  as  a  flamingo 
Drops  into  his  nest  at  nightfall, 
In  the  melancholy  marshes. 

"  Hold !"  at  length  cried  Mudjekeewis, 


"  Hold,  my  son,  my  Hiawatha ! 

'T  is  impossible  to  kill  rne, 

For  you  cannot  kill  the  immortal. 

I  have  put  you  to  this  trial, 

But  to  know  and  prove  your  courage ; 

Now  receive  the  prize  of  valour ! 

"  Go  back  to  your  home  and  people, 
Live  among  them,  toil  among  them, 
Cleanse  the  earth  from  all  that  harms  it, 
Clear  the  fishing-grounds  and  rivers, 
Slay  all  monsters  and  magicians, 
All  the  giants,  the  Wendigoes, 
All  the  serpents,  the  Kenabeeks, 
As  I  slew  the  Mishe-Mokwa, 
Slew  the  Great  Bear  of  the  mountains. 

"  And  at  last  when  Death  draws  near  you, 
When  the  awful  eyes  of  Pauguk 
Glare  upon  you  in  the  darkness, 
I  will  share  my  kingdom  with  you, 
Ruler  shall  you  be  thenceforward 


Of  the  Northwest-wind,  Keewaydin, 
Of  the  home-wind,  the  Keewaydin." 

Thus  was  fought  that  famous  battle 
In  the  dreadful  days  of  Shah-shah, 
In  the  days  long  since  departed, 
In  the  kingdom  of  the  West- Wind. 
Still  the  hunter  sees  its  traces 
Scattered  far  o'er  hill  and  valley ; 
Sees  the  giant  bulrush  growing 
By  the  ponds  and  water-courses, 
Sees  the  masses  of  the  Wawbeek 
Lying  still  in  every  valley. 

Homeward  now  went  Hiawatha ; 
Pleasant  was  the  landscape  round  him, 
Pleasant  was  the  air  above  him, 
For  the  bitterness  of  anger 
Had  departed  wholly  from  him, 
From  his  brain  the  thought  of  vengeance, 
From  his  heart  the  burning  fever. 

Only  once  his  pace  he  slackened, 


Only  once  he  paused  or  halted, 
Paused  to  purchase  heads  of  arrows 
Of  the  ancient  Arrow-maker, 
In  the  land  of  the  Dacotahs, 
Where  the  falls  of  Minnehaha 
Flash  and  gleam  in  shining  reaches, 
Leap  and  laugh  among  the  woodlands. 

There  the  ancient  Arrow-maker 
Made  his  arrow-heads  of  sandstone, 
Arrow-heads  of  chalcedony, 
Arrow-heads  of  flint  and  jasper, 
Smoothed  and  sharpened  at  the  edges, 
Hard  and  polished,  keen  and  costly. 

With  him  dwelt  his  dark-eyed  daughter, 
Wayward  as  the  Minnehaha, 
With  her  moods  of  shade  and  sunshine, 
Eyes  that  smiled  and  frowned  alternate, 
Feet  as  rapid  as  the  river, 
Tresses  flowing  like  the  water, 
And  as  musical  a  laughter  ; 


And  he  named  her  from  the  river, 
From  the  water-fall  he  named  her, 
Minnehaha,  Laughing  Water. 

Was  it  then  for  heads  of  arrows, 
Arrow-heads  of  chalcedony, 
Arrow-heads  of  flint  and  jasper, 
That  my  Hiawatha  halted 
In  the  land  of  the  Dacotahs  ? 

Was  it  not  to  see  the  maiden, 
See  the  face  of  Laughing  Water 
Peeping  from  behind  the  curtain, 
Hear  the  rustling  of  her  garments 
From  behind  the  waving  curtain, 
As  one  sees  the  Minnehaha 
Gleaming,  glancing  through  the  branches, 
As  one  hears  the  Laughing  Water 
From  behind  its  screen  of  branches  ? 

.  Who  shall  say  what  thoughts  and  visions 
Fill  the  fiery  brains  of  young  men  ? 
Who  shall  say  what  dreams  of  beauty 


Filled  the  heart  of  Hiawatha  ? 
All  he  told  to  old  Nokomis, 
When  he  reached  the  lodge  at  sunset, 
Was  the  meeting  with  his  father, 
Was  his  fight  with  Mudjekeewis ; 
Not  a  word  he  said  of  arrows, 
Not  a  word  of  Laughing  Water  ! 



You  shall  hear  how  Hiawatha 
Prayed  and  fasted  in  the  forest, 
Not  for  greater  skill  in  hunting, 
Not  for  greater  craft  in  fishing, 
Not  for  triumphs  in  the  battle, 
And  renown  among  the  warriors, 
But  for  profit  of  the  people, 
For  advantage  of  the  nations. 

First  he  huilt  a  lodge  for  fasting, 
Built  a  wigwam  in  the  forest, 
By  the  shining  Big-Sea-Water, 
In  the  blithe  and  pleasant  Spring-time, 



In  the  Moon  of  Leaves  he  built  it, 
And,  with  dreams  and  visions  many, 
Seven  whole  days  and  nights  he  fasted. 

On  the  first  day  of  his  fasting 
Through  the  leafy  woods  he  wandered ; 
Saw  the  deer  start  from  the  thicket. 
Saw  the  rabbit  in  his  burrow, 
Heard  the  pheasant,  Bena,  drumming, 
Heard  the  squirrel,  Adjidaumo, 
Rattling  in  his  hoard  of  acorns, 
Saw  the  pigeon,  the  Omeme, 
Building  nests  among  the  pine-trees, 
And  in  flocks  the  wild  goose,  Wawa, 
Flying  to  the  fen-lands  northward, 
Whirring,  wailing  far  above  him. 
"  Master  of  Life ! "  he  cried,  desponding, 
"  Must  our  lives  depend  on  these  things  ? ' 

On  the  next  day  of  his  fasting 
By  the  river's  brink  he  wandered, 
Through  the  Muskoday,  the  meadow, 


Saw  the  wild  rice,  Mahnomonee, 

Saw  the  blueberry,  Meenahga, 

And  the  strawberry,  Odahmin, 

And  the  gooseberry,  Shahbomin, 

And  the  grape-vine,  the  Bemahgut, 

Trailing  o'er  the  alder-branches, 

Filling  all  the  air  with  fragrance  ! 

"  Master  of  Life  ! "  he  cried,  desponding, 

"  Must  our  lives  depend  on  these  things  ? " 

On  the  third  day  of  his  fasting 
By  the  lake  he  sat  and  pondered, 
By  the  still,  transparent  water ; 
Saw  the  sturgeon,  Nahma,  leaping, 
Scattering  drops  like  beads  of  wampum, 
Saw  the  yellow  perch,  the  Sahwa, 
Like  a  sunbeam  in  the  water, 
Saw  the  pike,  the  Maskenozha, 
And  the  herring,  Okahahwis, 
And  the  Shawgashee,  the  craw-fish  ! 
"  Master  of  Life  !"  he  cried,  desponding, 


"  Must  our  lives  depend  on  these  things  ? ' 

On  the  fourth  day  of  his  fasting 
In  his  lodge  he  lay  exhausted ; 
From  his  couch  of  leaves  and  branches 
Gazing  with  half-open  eyelids, 
Full  of  shadowy  dreams  and  visions, 
On  the  dizzy,  swimming  landscape, 
On  the  gleaming  of  the  water, 
On  the  splendour  of  the  sunset. 

And  he  saw  a  youth  approaching, 
Dressed  in  garments  green  and  yellow, 
Coming  through  the  purple  twilight, 
Through  the  splendour  of  the  sunset ; 
Plumes  of  green  bent  o'er  his  forehead, 
And  his  hair  was  soft  and  golden. 
Standing  at  the  open  doorway, 
Long  he  looked  at  Hiawatha, 
Looked  with  pity  and  compassion 
On  his  wasted  form  and  features, 
And,  in  accents  like  the  sighing 


Of  the  South- Wind  in  the  tree-tops, 
Said  he,  "  O  my  Hiawatha ! 
All  your  prayers  are  heard  in  heaven, 
For  you  pray  not  like  the  others, 
Not  for  greater  skill  in  hunting, 
Not  for  greater  craft  in  fishing, 
Not  for  triumph  in  the  battle, 
Nor  renown  among  the  warriors, 
But  for  profit  of  the  people, 
For  advantage  of  the  nations. 

"  From  the  Master  of  Life  descending, 
I,  the  friend  of  man,  Mondamin, 
Come  to  warn  you  and  instruct  you, 
How  by  struggle  and  by  labour 
You  shall  gain  what  you  have  prayed  for. 
Rise  up  from  your  bed  of  branches, 
Rise,  O  youth,  and  wrestle  with  me ! " 

Faint  with  famine,  Hiawatha 
Started  from  his  bed  of  branches, 
From  the  twilight  of  his  wigwam 


Forth  into  the  flush  of  sunset 
Came,  and  wrestled  with  Mondamin ; 
At  his  touch  he  felt  new  courage 
Throbbing  in  his  brain  and  bosom,, 
Felt  new  life  and  hope  and  vigour 
Run  through  every  nerve  and  fibre. 

So  they  wrestled  there  together 
In  the  glory  of  the  sunset, 
And  the  more  they  strove  and  struggled, 
Stronger  still  grew  Hiawatha ; 
Till  the  darkness  fell  around  them, 
And  the  heron,  the  Shuh-shuh-gah, 
From  her  haunts  among  the  fen-lands, 
Gave  a  cry  of  lamentation, 
Gave  a  scream  of  pain  and  famine. 
"  'Tis  enough ! "  then  said  Mondamin, 
Smiling  upon  Hiawatha, 
"  But  to-morrow,  when  the  sun  sets, 
I  will  come  again  to  try  you." 
And  he  vanished,  and  was  seen  not ; 


Whether  sinking  as  the  rain  sinks, 
Whether  rising  as  the  mists  rise, 
Hiawatha  saw  not,  knew  not, 
Only  saw  that  he  had  vanished, 
Leaving  him  alone  and  fainting, 
With  the  misty  lake  below  him, 
And  the  reeling  stars  above  him. 

On  the  morrow  and  the  next  day, 
When  the  sun  through  heaven  descending, 
Like  a  red  and  burning  cinder 
From  the  hearth  of  the  Great  Spirit, 
Fell  into  the  western  waters, 
Came  Mondamin  for  the  trial, 
For  the  strife  with  Hiawatha ; 
Came  as  silent  as  the  dew  comes, 
From  the  empty  air  appearing, 
Into  empty  air  returning, 
Taking  shape  when  earth  it  touches, 
But  invisible  to  all  men 
In  its  coming  and  its  going. 


Thrice  they  wrestled  there  together 
In  the  glory  of  the  sunset, 
Till  the  darkness  fell  around  them, 
Till  the  heron,  the  Shuh-shuh-gah, 
From  her  haunts  among  the  fen-lands, 
Uttered  her  loud  cry  of  famine, 
And  Mondamin  paused  to  listen. 

Tall  and  beautiful  he  stood  there, 
In  his  garments  green  and  yellow ; 
To  and  fro  his  plumes  above  him 
Waved  and  nodded  with  his  breathing, 
And  the  sweat  of  the  encounter 
Stood  like  drops  of  dew  upon  him. 

And  he  cried,  "  O  Hiawatha  ! 
Bravely  have  you  wrestled  with  me, 
Thrice  have  wrestled  stoutly  with  me, 
And  the  Master  of  Life,  who  sees  us, 
He  will  give  to  you  the  triumph ! " 

Then  he  smiled,  and  said :  "  To-morrow 
Is  the  last  day  of  your  conflict, 


Is  the  last  day  of  your  fasting. 
You  will  conquer  and  o'ercome  me  ; 
Make  a  bed  for  me  to  lie  in, 
Where  the  rain  may  fall  upon  me. 
Where  the  sun  may  come  and  warm  me ; 
Strip  these  garments,  green  and  yellow, 
Strip  this  nodding  plumage  from  me, 
Lay  me  in  the  earth,  and  make  it 
Soft  and  loose  and  light  above  me. 

"  Let  no  hand  disturb  my  slumber, 
Let  no  weed  nor  worm  molest  me, 
Let  not  Kahgahgee,  the  raven, 
Come  to  haunt  me  and  molest  me, 
Only  come  yourself  to  watch  me, 
Till  I  wake,  and  start,  and  quicken, 
Till  I  leap  into  the  sunshine." 

And  thus  saying,  he  departed ; 
Peacefully  slept  Hiawatha, 
But  he  heard  the  Wawonaissa, 
Heard  the  whippoorwill  complaining, 


Perched  upon  his  lonely  wigwam ; 
Heard  the  rushing  Sebowisha, 
Heard  the  rivulet  rippling  near  him, 
Talking  to  the  darksome  forest ; 
Heard  the  sighing  of  the  branches, 
As  they  lifted  and  subsided 
At  the  passing  of  the  night-wind, 
Heard  them,  as  one  hears  in  slumber 
Far-off  murmurs,  dreamy  whispers  : 
Peacefully  slept  Hiawatha. 

On  the  morrow  came  Nokomis, 
On  the  seventh  day  of  his  fasting, 
Came  with  food  for  Hiawatha, 
Came  imploring  and  bewailing, 
Lest  his  hunger  should  o'er  come  him, 
J^est  his  fasting  should  be  fatal. 

But  he  tasted  not,  and  touched  not, 
Only  said  to  her,  "  Nokomis, 
Wait  until  the  sun  is  setting, 
Till  the  darkness  falls  around  us, 


Till  the  heron,  the  Shuh-shuh-gah, 
Crying  from  the  desolate  marshes, 
Tells  us  that  the  day  is  ended." 

Homeward  weeping  went  Nokomis, 
Sorrowing  for  her  Hiawatha, 
Fearing  lest  his  strength  should  fail  him, 
Lest  his  fasting  should  be  fatal. 
He  meanwhile  sat  weary  waiting 
For  the  coming  of  Mondamin, 
Till  the  shadows,  pointing  eastward, 
Lengthened  over  field  and  forest, 
Till  the  sun  dropped  from  the  heaven, 
Floating  on  the  waters  westward, 
As  a  red  leaf  in  the  Autumn 
Falls  and  floats  upon  the  water, 
Falls  and  sinks  into  its  bosom. 

And  behold !  the  young  Mondamin, 
With  his  soft  and  shining  tresses, 
With  his  garments  green  and  yellow, 
With  his  long  and  glossy  plumage, 


Stood  and  beckoned  at  the  doorway. 
And  as  one  in  slumber  walking, 
Pale  and  haggard,  but  undaunted. 
From  the  wigwam  Hiawatha 
Came  and  wrestled  with  Mondamin. 

Round  about  him  spun  the  landscape, 
Sky  and  forest  reeled  together, 
And  his  strong  heart  leaped  within  him, 
As  the  sturgeon  leaps  and  struggles 
In  a  net  to  break  its  meshes. 
Like  a  ring  of  fire  around  him 
Blazed  and  flared  the  red  horizon, 
And  a  hundred  suns  seemed  looking 
At  the  combat  of  the  wrestlers. 

Suddenly  upon  the  greensward 
All  alone  stood  Hiawatha, 
Panting  with  his  wild  exertion, 
Palpitating  with  the  struggle ; 
And  before  him,  breathless,  lifeless, 
Lay  the  youth,  with  hair  dishevelled, 


Plumage  torn,  and  garments  tattered, 
Dead  he  lay  there  in  the  sunset. 

And  victorious  Hiawatha 
Made  the  grave  as  he  commanded, 
Stripped  the  garments  from  Mondamin, 
Stripped  his  tattered  plumage  from  him, 
Laid  him  in  the  earth,  and  made  it 
Soft  and  loose  and  light  above  him ; 
And  the  heron,  the  Shuh-shuh-gah, 
From  the  melancholy  moor-lands, 
Gave  a  cry  of  lamentation, 
Gave  a  cry  of  pain  and  anguish  I 

Homeward  then  went  Hiawatha 
To  the  lodge  of  old  Nokomis, 
And  the  seven  days  of  his  fasting 
Were  accomplished  and  completed. 
But  the  place  was  not  forgotten 
Where  he  wrestled  with  Mondamin ; 
Nor  forgotten  nor  neglected 
Was  the  grave  where  lay  Mondamin, 


Sleeping  in  the  rain  and  sunshine, 
Where  his  scattered  plumes  and  garments 
Faded  in  the  rain  and  sunshine. 

Day  by  day  did  Hiawatha 
Go  to  wait  and  watch  beside  it ; 
Kept  the  dark  mould  soft  above  it, 
Kept  it  clean  from  weeds  and  insects, 
Drove  away,  with  scoffs  and  shoutings, 
Kahgahgee,  the  king  of  ravens. 

Till  at  length  a  small  green  feather 
From  the  earth  shot  slowly  upward, 
Then  another  and  another, 
And  before  the  Summer  ended 
Stood  the  maize  in  all  its  beauty, 
With  its  shining  robes  about  it, 
And  its  long,  soft,  yellow  tresses  ; 
And  in  rapture  Hiawatha 
Cried  aloud,  "  It  is  Mondamin ! 
Yes,  the  friend  of  man,  Mondamin  !" 

Then  he  called  to  old  Nokomis 


And  lagoo,  the  great  boaster, 
Showed  them  where  the  maize  was  growing, 
Told  them  of  his  wondrous  vision, 
Of  his  wrestling  and  his  triumph, 
Of  this  new  gift  to  the  nations, 
Which  should  be  their  food  for  ever. 
And  still  later,  when  the  Autumn 
Changed  the  long  green  leaves  to  yellow, 
And  the  soft  and  juicy  kernels 
Grew  like  wampum  hard  and  yellow, 
Then  the  ripened  ears  he  gathered, 
Stripped  the  withered  husks  from  off  them, 
As  he  once  had  stripped  the  wrestler, 
Gave  the  first  Feast  of  Mondamin, 
And  made  known  unto  the  people 
This  new  gift  of  the  Great  Spirit. 



Two  good  friends  had  Hiawatha, 

Singled  out  from  all  the  others, 

Bound  to  him  in  closest  union, 

And  to  whom  he  gave  the  right  hand 

Of  his  heart,  in  joy  and  sorrow ; 

Chibiabos,  the  musician, 

And  the  very  strong  man,  Kwasind. 

Straight  between  them  ran  the  pathway, 
Never  grew  the  grass  upon  it ; 
Singing  birds,  that  utter  falsehoods, 
Story-tellers,  mischief-makers, 
Found  no  eager  ear  to  listen, 


Could  not  breed  ill-will  between  them, 
For  they  kept  each  other's  counsel, 
Spake  with  naked  hearts  together, 
Pondering  much  and  much  contriving 
How  the  tribes  of  men  might  prosper. 

Most  beloved  by  Hiawatha 
Was  the  gentle  Chibiabos, 
He  the  best  of  all  musicians, 
He  the  sweetest  of  all  singers, 
Beautiful  and  childlike  was  he, 
Brave  as  man  is,  soft  as  woman, 
Pliant  as  a  wand  of  willow, 
Stately  as  a  deer  with  antlers. 

When  he  sang,  the  village  listened ; 
All  the  warriors  gathered  round  him, 
All  the  women  came  to  hear  him  ; 
Now  he  stirred  their  souls  to  passion, 
Now  he  melted  them  to  pity. 

From  the  hollow  reeds  he  fashioned 
Flutes  so  musical  and  mellow, 



That  the  brook,  the  Sebowisha, 
Ceased  to  murmur  in  the  woodland, 
That  the  wood-birds  ceased  from  singing, 
And  the  squirrel,  Adjidaumo, 
Ceased  his  chatter  in  the  oak-tree, 
And  the  rabbit,  the  Wabasso, 
Sat  upright  to  look  and  listen. 

Yes,  the  brook,  the  Sebowisha, 
Pausing,  said,  "  O  Chibiabos, 
Teach  my  waves  to  flow  in  music, 
Softly  as  your  words  in  singing ! " 

Yes,  the  blue-bird,  the  Owaissa, 
Envious,  said,  "  O  Chibiabos, 
Teach  me  tones  as  wild  and  wayward, 
Teach  me  songs  as  full  of  frenzy  ! " 

Yes,  the  Opechee,  the  robin, 
Joyous,  said,  "  O  Chibiabos, 
Teach  me  tones  as  sweet  and  tender, 
Teach  me  songs  as  full  of  gladness  ! " 

And  the  whippoorwill,  Wawonaissa, 


Sobbing,  said,,  "  O  Chibiabos, 
Teach  me  tones  as  melancholy, 
Teach  me  songs  as  full  of  sadness  ! " 

All  the  many  sounds  of  nature 
Borrowed  sweetness  from  his  singing ; 
All  the  hearts  of  men  were  softened 
By  the  pathos  of  his  music ; 
For  he  sang  of  peace  and  freedom, 
Sang  of  beauty,  love,  and  longing ; 
Sang  of  death,  and  life  undying 
In  the  Islands  of  the  Blessed, 
In  the  kingdom  of  Ponemah, 
In  the  land  of  the  Hereafter. 

Very  dear  to  Hiawatha 
Was  the  gentle  Chibiabos, 
He  the  best  of  all  musicians, 
He  the  sweetest  of  all  singers ; 
For  his  gentleness  he  loved  him, 
And  the  magic  of  his  singing. 

Dear,  too,  unto  Hiawatha 


Was  the  very  strong  man,  Kwasind, 
He  the  strongest  of  all  mortals, 
He  the  mightiest  among  many ; 
For  his  very  strength  he  loved  him, 
For  his  strength  allied  to  goodness. 

Idle  in  his  youth  was  Kwasind, 
Very  listless,  dull,  and  dreamy, 
Never  played  with  other  children, 
Never  fished  and  never  hunted, 
Not  like  other  children  was  he ; 
But  they  saw  that  much  he  fasted, 
Much  his  Manito  entreated, 
Much  besought  his  Guardian  Spirit. 

"  Lazy  Kwasind ! "  said  his  mother, 
et  In  my  work  you  never  help  me ! 
In  the  Summer  you  are  roaming 
Idly  in  the  fields  and  forests ; 
In  the  Winter  you  are  cowering 
O'er  the  firebrands  in  the  wigwam ! 
In  the  coldest  days  of  Winter 


I  must  break  the  ice  for  fishing  ; 
With  my  nets  you  never  help  me ! 
At  the  door  my  nets  are  hanging, 
Dripping,  freezing  with  the  water ; 
Go  and  wring  them,  Yenadizze  ! 
Go  and  dry  them  in  the  sunshine  ! " 

Slowly,  from  the  ashes,  Kwasind 
Rose,  but  made  no  angry  answer ; 
From  the  lodge  went  forth  in  silence, 
Took  the  nets,  that  hung  together, 
Dripping,  freezing  at  the  doorway, 
Like  a  wisp  of  straw  he  wrung  them, 
Like  a  wisp  of  straw  he  broke  them, 
Could  not  wring  them  without  breaking, 
Such  the  strength  was  in  his  fingers. 

"  Lazy  Kwasind ! "  said  his  father, 
ef  In  the  hunt  you  never  help  me  ; 
Every  bow  you  touch  is  broken, 
Snapped  asunder  every  arrow ; 
Yet  come  with  me  to  the  forest, 


You  shall  bring  the  hunting  homeward." 

Down  a  narrow  pass  they  wandered, 
Where  a  brooklet  led  them  onward, 
Where  the  trail  of  deer  and  bison 
Marked  the  soft  mud  on  the  margin, 
Till  they  found  all  further  passage 
Shut  against  them,  barred  securely 
By  the  trunks  of  trees  uprooted, 
Lying  lengthwise,  lying  crosswise, 
And  forbidding  further  passage. 

"  We  must  go  back,"  said  the  old  man, 
"  O'er  these  logs  we  cannot  clamber ; 
Not  a  woodchuck  could  get  through  them 
Not  a  squirrel  clamber  o'er  them ! " 
And  straightway  his  pipe  he  lighted, 
And  sat  down  to  smoke  and  ponder. 
But  before  his  pipe  was  finished, 
Lo  !  the  path  was  cleared  before  him  ; 
All  the  trunks  had  Kwasind  lifted, 
To  the  right  hand,  to  the  left  hand, 


Shot  the  pine-trees  swift  as  arrows, 
Hurled  the  cedars  light  as  lances. 

"  Lazy  Kwasind  ! "  said  the  young  men, 
As  they  sported  in  the  meadow ; 
"  Why  stand  idly  looking  at  us, 
Leaning  on  the  rock  behind  you  ? 
Come  and  wrestle  with  the  others, 
Let  us  pitch  the  quoit  together ! " 

Lazy  Kwasind  made  no  answer, 
To  their  challenge  made  no  answer, 
Only  rose,  and,  slowly  turning, 
Seized  the  huge  rock  in  his  fingers, 
Tore  it  from  its  deep  foundation, 
Poised  it  in  the  air  a  moment, 
Pitched  it  sheer  into  the  river, 
Sheer  into  the  swift  Pauwating, 
Where  it  still  is  seen  in  Summer. 

Once  as  down  that  foaming  river, 
Down  the  rapids  of  Pauwating, 
Kwasind  sailed  with  his  companions, 


In  the  stream  he  saw  a  beaver, 
Saw  Ameek,  the  King  of  Beavers, 
Struggling  with  the  rushing  currents, 
Rising,  sinking  in  the  water. 

Without  speaking,  without  pausing, 
Kwasind  leaped  into  the  river, 
Plunged  beneath  the  bubbling  surface, 
Through  the  whirlpools  chased  the  beaver, 
Followed  him  amono;  the  islands, 

o  y 

Staid  so  long  beneath  the  water, 
That  his  terrified  companions 
Cried,  es  Alas  !  good  bye  to  Kwasind  ! 
We  shall  never  more  see  Kwasind  ! " 
But  he  reappeared  triumphant, 
And  upon  his  shining  shoulders 
Brought  the  beaver,  dead  and  dripping, 
Brought  the  King  of  all  the  Beavers. 
And  these  two,  as  I  have  told  you, 
Were  the  friends  of  Hiawatha, 
Chibiabos,  the  musician, 


And  the  very  strong  man,  Kwasind. 
Long  they  lived  in  peace  together, 
Spake  with  naked  hearts  together, 
Pondering  much  and  much  contriving 
How  the  tribes  of  men  might  prosper. 



"  GIVE  me  of  your  bark,  O  Birch-Tree  ! 
Of  your  yellow  bark,  O  Birch-Tree  ! 
Growing  by  the  rushing  river, 
Tall  and  stately  in  the  valley  I 
I  a  light  canoe  will  build  me, 
Build  a  swift  Cheemaun  for  sailing, 
That  shall  float  upon  the  river, 
Like  a  yellow  leaf  in  Autumn, 
Like  a  yellow  water-lily  ! 

"  Lay  aside  your  cloak,  O  Birch-Tree  ! 
Lay  aside  your  white- skin  wrapper, 
For  the  Summer-time  is  coming, 


And  the  sun  is  warm  in  heaven, 

And  you  need  no  white-skin  wrapper ! " 

Thus  aloud  cried  Hiawatha 

In  the  solitary  forest, 

By  the  rushing  Taquamenaw, 

When  the  birds  were  singing  gayly, 

In  the  Moon  of  Leaves  were  singing, 

And  the  sun,  from  sleep  awaking, 

Started  up  and  said,  "  Behold  me ! 

Geezis,  the  great  Sun,  behold  me ! " 

And  the  tree  with  all  its  branches 
Rustled  in  the  breeze  of  morning, 
Saying,  with  a  sigh  of  patience, 
"  Take  my  cloak,  O  Hiawatha ! " 

With  his  knife  the  tree  he  girdled ; 
Just  beneath  its  lowest  branches, 
Just  above  the  roots,  he  cut  it, 
Till  the  sap  came  oozing  outward ; 
Down  the  trunk,  from  top  to  bottom, 
Sheer  he  cleft  the  bark  asunder, 


With  a  wooden  wedge  he  raised  it, 
Stripped  it  from  the  trunk  unbroken. 

"  Give  me  of  your  boughs,  O  Cedar  ! 
Of  your  strong  and  pliant  branches, 
My  canoe  to  make  more  steady, 
Make  more  strong  and  firm  beneath  me !" 

Through  the  summit  of  the  Cedar 
Went  a  sound,  a  cry  of  horror, 
Went  a  murmur  of  resistance  ; 
But  it  whispered,  bending  downward, 
«  Take  my  boughs,  O  Hiawatha  !" 

Down  he  hewed  the  boughs  of  cedar, 
Shaped  them  straightway  to  a  framework, 
Like  two  bows  he  formed  and  shaped  them, 
Like  two  bended  bows  together. 

"  Give  me  of  your  roots,  O  Tamarack ! 
Of  your  fibrous  roots,  O  Larch-Tree ! 
My  canoe  to  bind  together, 
So  to  bind  the  ends  together 
That  the  water  may  not  enter, 


That  the  river  may  not  wet  me  ! " 

And  the  Larch,  with  all  its  fibres, 
Shivered  in  the  air  of  morning, 
Touched  his  forehead  with  its  tassels, 
Said,  with  one  long  sigh  of  sorrow, 
«  Take  them  all,  O  Hiawatha  !" 

From  the  earth  he  tore  the  fibres, 
Tore  the  tough  roots  of  the  Larch-Tree, 
Closely  sewed  the  bark  together, 
Bound  it  closely  to  the  framework. 

"  Give  me  of  your  balm,  O  Fir-Tree  ! 
Of  your  balsam  and  your  resin, 
So  to  close  the  seams  together 
That  the  water  may  not  enter, 
That  the  river  may  not  wet  me ! " 

And  the  Fir-Tree,  tall  and  sombre, 
Sobbed  through  all  its  robes  of  darkness, 
Rattled  like  a  shore  with  pebbles, 
Answered  wailing,  answered  weeping, 
"  Take  my  balm,  O  Hiawatha !" 


And  he  took  the  tears  of  balsam, 
Took  the  resin  of  the  Fir-Tree, 
Smeared  therewith  each  seam  and  fissure, 
Made  each  crevice  safe  from  water. 

"  Give  me  of  your  quills,  O  Hedgehog  ! 
All  your  quills,  O  Kagh,  the  Hedgehog ! 
I  will  make  a  necklace  of  them, 
Make  a  girdle  for  my  beauty, 
And  two  stars  to  deck  her  bosom ! " 

From  a  hollow  tree  the  Hedgehog 
With  his  sleepy  eyes  looked  at  him, 
Shot  his  shining  quills,  like  arrows, 
Saying,  with  a  drowsy  murmur, 
Through  the  tangle  of  his  whiskers, 
"  Take  my  quills,  O  Hiawatha! " 

From  the  ground  the  quills  he  gathered, 
All  the  little  shining  arrows, 
Stained  them  red  and  blue  and  yellow, 
With  the  juice  of  roots  and  berries ; 
Into  his  canoe  he  wrought  them, 


Round  its  waist  a  shining  girdle, 
Round  its  bows  a  gleaming  necklace, 
On  its  breast  two  stars  resplendent. 

Thus  the  Birch  Canoe  was  builded 
In  the  valley,  by  the  river, 
In  the  bosom  of  the  forest ; 
And  the  forest's  life  was  in  it, 
All  its  mystery  and  its  magic, 
All  the  lightness  of  the  birch-tree, 
All  the  toughness  of  the  cedar, 
All  the  larch's  supple  sinews  ; 
And  it  floated  on  the  river 
Like  a  yellow  leaf  in  Autumn, 
Like  a  yellow  water-lily. 

Paddles  none  had  Hiawatha, 
Paddles  none  he  had  or  needed, 
For  his  thoughts  as  paddles  served  him, 
And  his  wishes  served  to  guide  him  ; 
Swift  or  slow  at  will  he  glided, 
Veered  to  right  or  left  at  pleasure. 


Then  he  called  aloud  to  Kwasind, 
To  his  friend,  the  strong  man,  Kwasind, 
Saying,  "  Help  me  clear  this  river 
Of  its  sunken  logs  and  sand-bars." 

Straight  into  the  river  Kwasind 
Plunged  as  if  he  were  an  otter, 
~Dove  as  if  he  were  a  beaver, 
Stood  up  to  his  waist  in  water, 
To  his  arm-pits  in  the  river, 
Swam  and  shouted  in  the  river, 
Tugged  at  sunken  logs  and  branches, 
With  his  hands  he  scooped  the  sand-bars, 
With  his  feet  the  ooze  and  tangle. 

And  thus  sailed  my  Hiawatha 
Down  the  rushing  Taquamenaw, 
Sailed  through  all  its  bends  and  windings, 
Sailed  through  all  its  deeps  and  shallows, 
While  his  friend,  the  strong  man,  Kwasind, 
Swam  the  deeps,  the  shallows  waded. 

Up  and  down  the  river  went  they, 


In  and  out  among  its  islands, 
Cleared  its  bed  of  root  and  sand-bar, 
Dragged  the  dead  trees  from  its  channel, 
Made  its  passage  safe  and  certain, 
Made  a  pathway  for  the  people, 
From  its  springs  among  the  mountains, 
To  the  waters  of  Pauwating, 
To  the  bay  of  Taquamenaw. 



FORTH  upon  the  Gitche  Gumee, 
On  the  shining  Big-Sea-Water, 
With  his  fishing-line  of  cedar, 
Of  the  twisted  bark  of  cedar, 
Forth  to  catch  the  sturgeon  Nahma^ 
Mishne-Nahma,  King  of  Fishes, 
In  his  hirch-canoe  exulting 
All  alone  went  Hiawatha. 

Through  the  clear,  transparent  water 
He  could  see  the  fishes  swimming 
Far  down  in  the  depths  below  him ; 
See  the  yellow  perch,  the  Sahwa, 


Like  a  sunbeam  in  the  water, 
See  the  Shawgashee,  the  craw-fish, 
Like  a  spider  on  the  bottom, 
On  the  white  and  sandy  bottom. 

At  the  stern  sat  Hiawatha, 
With  his  fishing-line  of  cedar; 
In  his  plumes  the  breeze  of  morning 
Played  as  in  the  hemlock  branches  ; 
On  the  bows,  with  tail  erected, 
Sat  the  squirrel,  Adjidaumo  ; 
In  his  fur  the  breeze  of  morning 
Played  as  in  the  prairie  grasses. 

On  the  white  sand  of  the  bottom 
Lay  the  monster  Mishe-Nahma, 
Lay  the  sturgeon,  King  of  Fishes  ; 
Through  his  gills  he  breathed  the  water, 
With  his  fins  he  fanned  and  winnowed, 
With  his  tail  he  swept  the  sand-floor. 

There  he  lay  in  all  his  armour ; 
On  each  side  a  shield  to  guard  him, 


Plates  of  bone  upon  his  forehead, 
Down  his  sides  and  back  and  shoulders 
Plates  of  bone  with  spines  projecting  ! 
Painted  was  he  with  his  war-paints, 
Stripes  of  yellow,  red,  and  azure, 
Spots  of  brown  and  spots  of  sable ; 
And  he  lay  there  on  the  bottom, 
Fanning  with  his  fins  of  purple, 
He  the  terror  of  the  fishes, 
The  destroyer  of  the  salmon, 
The  devourer  of  the  herring. 

"Take  my  bait !"  cried  Hiawatha, 
Down  into  the  depths  beneath  him, 
"  Take  my  bait,  O  Sturgeon,  Nahma ! 
Come  up  from  below  the  water, 
Let  us  see  which  is  the  stronger  ?" 
And  he  dropped  his  line  of  cedar 
Through  the  clear,  transparent  water, 
Waited  vainly  for  an  answer, 
Long  sat  waiting  for  an  answer, 


And  repeating  loud  and  louder, 

"  Take  my  bait,  O  King  of  Fishes  !" 

Quiet  lay  the  sturgeon,  Nahma, 
Fanning  slowly  in  the  water, 
Looking  up  at  Hiawatha, 
Listening  to  his  call  and  clamour, 
His  unnecessary  tumult, 
Till  he  wearied  of  the  shouting ; 
And  he  said  to  the  Kenozha, 
To  the  pike,  the  Maskenozha, 
"  Take  the  bait  of  this  rude  fellow, 
Break  the  line  of  Hiawatha ! " 

In  his  fingers  Hiawatha 
Felt  the  loose  line  jerk  and  tighten  ; 
As  he  drew  it  in,  it  tugged  so 
That  the  birch-canoe  stood  endwise, 
Like  a  birch  log  in  the  water, 
With  the  squirrel,  Adjidaumo, 
Perched  and  frisking  on  the  summit. 

Full  of  scorn  was  Hiawatha 


When  he  saw  the  fish  rise  upward, 
Saw  the  pike,  the  Maskenozha, 
Coming  nearer,  nearer  to  him, 
And  he  shouted  through  the  water, 
"  Esa !  esa !  Shame  upon  you ! 
You  are  but  the  pike,  Kenozha, 
You  are  not  the  fish  I  wanted, 
You  are  not  the  King  of  Fishes  ! " 

Reeling  downward  to  the  bottom 
Sank  the  pike  in  great  confusion, 
And  the  mighty  sturgeon,  Nahma, 
Said  to  Ugudwash,  the  sun-fish, 
"  Take  the  bait  of  this  great  boaster, 
Break  the  line  of  Hiawatha  ! " 

Slowly  upward,  wavering,  gleaming 
Like  a  white  moon  in  the  water, 
Rose  the  Ugudwash,  the  sun-fish, 
Seized  the  line  of  Hiawatha, 
Swung  with  all  his  weight  upon  it, 
Made  a  whirlpool  in  the  water, 


Whirled  the  birch-canoe  in  circles, 
Round  and  round  in  gurgling  eddies, 
Till  the  circles  in  the  water 
Reached  the  far-off  sandy  beaches, 
Till  the  water-flags  and  rushes 
Nodded  on  the  distant  margins. 

But  when  Hiawatha  saw  him 
Slowly  rising  through  the  water, 
Lifting  his  great  disc  of  whiteness, 
Loud  he  shouted  in  derision, 
"  Esa !  esa !  shame  upon  you 
You  are  Ugudwash,  the  sun-fish, 
You  are  not  the  fish  I  wanted, 
You  are  not  the  King  of  Fishes  ! " 

Wavering  downward,  white  and  ghastly, 
Sank  the  Ugudwash,  the  sun-fish, 
And  again  the  sturgeon,  Nahma, 
Heard  the  shout  of  Hiawatha, 
Heard  his  challenge  of  defiance, 
The  unnecessary  tumult, 


Ringing  far  across  the  water. 

From  the  white  sand  of  the  bottom 
Up  he  rose  with  angry  gesture,     . 
Quivering  in  each  nerve  and  fibre, 
Clashing  all  his  plates  of  armour, 
Gleaming  bright  with  all  his  war-paint ; 
In  his  wrath  he  darted  upward, 
Flashing  leaped  into  the  sunshine, 
Opened  his  great  jaws,  and  swallowed 
Both  canoe  and  Hiawatha. 

Down  into  that  darksome  cavern 
Plunged  the  headlong  Hiawatha, 
As  a  log  on  some  black  river 
Shoots  and  plunges  down  the  rapids, 
Found  himself  in  utter  darkness, 
Groped  about  in  helpless  wonder, 
Till  he  felt  a  great  heart  beating, 
Throbbing  in  that  utter  darkness. 

And  he  smote  it  in  his  anger, 
With  his  fist  the  heart  of  Nahma, 


Felt  the  mighty  King  of  Fishes 
Shudder  through  each  nerve  and  fibre, 
Heard  the  water  gurgle  round  him 
As  he  leaped  and  staggered  through  it, 
Sick  at  heart,  and  faint  and  weary. 

Crosswise  then  did  Hiawatha 
Drag  his  birch-canoe  for  safety. 
Lest  from  out  the  jaws  of  Nahma, 
In  the  turmoil  and  confusion, 
Forth  he  might  be  hurled  and  perish. 
And  the  squirrel,  Adjidaumo, 
Frisked  and  chattered  very  gayly, 
Toiled  and  tugged  with  Hiawatha 
Till  the  labour  was  completed. 

Then  said  Hiawatha  to  him, 
"  O  my  little  friend,  the  squirrel, 
Bravely  have  you  toiled  to  help  me ; 
Take  the  thanks  of  Hiawatha, 
And  the  name  which  now  he  gives  you ; 
For  hereafter  and  for  ever 


Boys  shall  call  you  Adjidaumo, 
Tail-in-air  the  boys  shall  call  you  ! " 

And  again  the  sturgeon,  Nahma, 
Gasped  and  quivered  in  the  water, 
Then  was  still,  and  drifted  landward 
Till  he  grated  on  the  pebbles, 
Till  the  listening  Hiawatha 
Heard  him  grate  upon  the  margin, 
Felt  him  strand  upon  the  pebbles, 
Knew  that  Nahma,  King  of  Fishes, 
Lay  there  dead  upon  the  margin. 

Then  he  heard  a  clang  and  flapping, 
As  of  many  wings  assembling, 
Heard  a  screaming  and  confusion, 
As  of  birds  of  prey  contending, 
Saw  a  gleam  of  light  above  him, 
Shining  through  the  ribs  of  Nahma, 
Saw  the  glittering  eyes  of  sea-gulls, 
Of  Kayoshk,  the  sea-gulls,  peering, 
Gazing  at  him  through  the  opening, 


Heard  them  saying  to  each  other, 
"  T  is  our  brother,  Hiawatha  !" 

And  he  shouted  from  below  them, 
Cried  exulting  from  the  caverns : 
"  O  ye  sea-gulls  !  O  my  brothers  ! 
I  have  slain  the  sturgeon,  Nahma ; 
Make  the  rifts  a  little  larger, 
With  your  claws  the  openings  widen, 
Set  me  free  from  this  dark  prison, 
And  henceforward  and  for  ever 
Men  shall  speak  of  your  achievements, 
Calling  you  Kayoshk,  the  sea-gulls, 
Yes,  Kayoshk,  the  Noble  Scratchers  !" 

And  the  wild  and  clamorous  sea-gulls 
Toiled  with  beak  and  claws  together, 
Made  the  rifts  and  openings  wider 
In  the  mighty  ribs  of  Nahma, 
And  from  peril  and  from  prison, 
From  the  body  of  the  sturgeon, 
From  the  peril  of  the  water, 


Was  released  my  Hiawatha. 

He  was  standing  near  his  wigwam, 
On  the  margin  of  the  water, 
And  he  called  to  old  Nokomis, 
Called  and  beckoned  to  Nokomis, 
Pointed  to  the  sturgeon,  Nahma, 
Lying  lifeless  on  the  pebbles, 
With  the  sea-gulls  feeding  on  him. 

"  I  have  slam  the  Mishe-Nahma, 
Slain  the  King  of  Fishes  ! "  said  he ; 
(e  Look  !  the  sea-gulls  feed  upon  him, 
Yes,  my  friend  Kayoshk,  the  sea-gulls  ; 
Drive  them  not  away,  Nokomis, 
They  have  saved  me  from  great  peril 
In  the  body  of  the  sturgeon, 
Wait  until  their  meal  is  ended, 
Till  their  craws  are  full  with  feasting, 
Till  they  homeward  fly  at  sunset, 
To  their  nests  among  the  marshes ; 
Then  bring  all  your  pots  and  kettles, 


And  make  oil  for  us  in  Winter." 

And  she  waited  till  the  sun  set, 
Till  the  pallid  moon,  the  night-sun, 
Rose  above  the  tranquil  water, 
Till  Kayoshk,  the  sated  sea-gulls, 
From  their  banquet  rose  with  clamour, 
And  across  the  fiery  sunset 
Winged  their  way  to  far-off  islands, 
To  their  nests  among  the  rushes. 

To  his  sleep  went  Hiawatha, 
And  Nokomis  to  her  labour, 
Toiling  patient  in  the  moonlight, 
Till  the  sun  and  moon  changed  places, 
Till  the  sky  was  red  with  sunrise, 
And  Kayoshk,  the  hungry  sea-gulls, 
Came  back  from  the  reedy  islands, 
Clamorous  for  their  morning  banquet. 

Three  whole  days  and  nights  alternate 
Old  Nokomis  and  the  sea-gulls 
Stripped  the  oily  flesh  of  Nahma, 


Till  the  waves  washed  through  the  rib-bones, 
Till  the  sea-gulls  came  no  longer, 
And  upon  the  sands  lay  nothing 
But  the  skeleton  of  Nahma, 



ON  the  shores  of  Gitche  Gumee, 
Of  the  shining  Big-Sea-Water, 
Stood  Nokomis,  the  old  woman, 
Pointing  with  her  finger  westward, 
O'er  the  water  pointing  westward, 
To  the  purple  clouds  of  sunset. 

Fiercely  the  red  sun  descending 
Burned  his  way  along  the  heavens, 
Set  the  sky  on  fire  behind  him, 
As  war-parties,  when  retreating, 
Burn  the  prairies  on  their  war-trail ; 
And  the  moon,  the  Night-Sun,  eastward, 


Suddenly  starting  from  his  ambush, 
Followed  fast  those  bloody  footprints, 
Followed  in  that  fiery  war-trail, 
With  its  glare  upon  his  features. 

And  Nokomis,  the  old  woman, 
Pointing  with  her  finger  westward, 
Spake  these  words  to  Hiawatha : 
<f  Yonder  dwells  the  great  Pearl-Feather, 
Megissogwon,  the  Magician, 
Manito  of  Wealth  and  Wampum, 
Guarded  by  his  fiery  serpents, 
Guarded  by  the  black  pitch-water. 
You  can  see  his  fiery  serpents, 
The  Kenabeek,  the  great  serpents, 
Coiling,  playing  in  the  water ; 
You  can  see  the  black  pitch-water 
Stretching  far  away  beyond  them, 
To  the  purple  clouds  of  sunset ! 

"  He  it  was  who  slew  my  father, 
By  his  wicked  wiles  and  cunning, 


When  he  from  the  moon  descended, 
When  he  came  on  earth  to  seek  me. 
He,  the  mightiest  of  Magicians, 
Sends  the  fever  from  the  marshes, 
Sends  the  pestilential  vapours, 
Sends  the  poisonous  exhalations, 
Sends  the  white  fog  from  the  fen-lands, 
Sends  disease  and  death  among  us  I 

"  Take  your  bow,  O  Hiawatha, 
Take  your  arrows,  jasper-headed, 
Take  your  war-club,  Puggawaugun, 
And  your  mittens,  Minjekahwun, 
And  your  birch-canoe  for  sailing, 
And  the  oil  of  Mishe-Nahma, 
So  to  smear  its  sides,  that  swiftly 
You  may  pass  the  black  pitch-water ; 
Slay  this  merciless  magician, 
Save  the  people  rom  the  fever 
That  he  breathes  across  the  fen-lands, 
And  avenge  my  father's  murder!" 



Straightway  then  my  Hiawatha 
Armed  himself  with  all  his  war-gear, 
Launched  his  birch-canoe  for  sailing ; 
With  his  palm  its  sides  he  patted, 
Said  with  glee,  "  Cheemaun,  my  darling, 
O  my  Birch-Canoe !  leap  forward, 
Where  you  see  the  fiery  serpents, 
Where  you  see  the  black  pitch-water ! " 

Forward  leaped  Cheemaun  exulting, 
And  the  noble  Hiawatha 
Sang  his  war-song  wild  and  woful, 
And  above  him  the  war-eagle, 
The  Keneu,  the  great  war-eagle, 
Master  of  all  fowls  with  feathers, 
Screamed  and  hurtled  through  the  heavens. 

Soon  he  reached  the  fiery  serpents, 
The  Kenabeek,  the  great  serpents, 
Lying  huge  upon  the  water, 
Sparkling,  rippling  in  the  water, 
Lying  coiled  across  the  passage, 


With  their  blazing  crests  uplifted, 
Breathing  fiery  fogs  and  vapours, 
So  that  none  could  pass  beyond  them. 

But  the  fearless  Hiawatha 
Cried  aloud,  and  spake  in  this  wise : 
"  Let  me  pass  my  way,  Kenabeek. 
Let  me  go  upon  my  journey  I" 
And  they  answered,  hissing  fiercely, 
"With  their  fiery  breath  made  answer : 
"  Back,  go  back !  O  Shaugodaya ! 
Back  to  old  Nokomis,  Faint-heart ! " 

Then  the  angry  Hiawatha 
Raised  his  mighty  bow  of  ash-tree, 
Seized  his  arrows,  jasper-headed, 
Shot  them  fast  among  the  serpents ; 
Every  twanging  of  the  bow-string 
Was  a  war-cry  and  a  death-cry, 
Every  whizzing  of  an  arrow 
Was  a  death- song  of  Kenabeek. 

Weltering  in  the  bloody  water, 


Dead  lay  all  the  fiery  serpents, 
And  among  them  Hiawatha 
Harmless  sailed,  and  cried  exulting : 
"  Onward,  O  Cheemaun,  my  darling ! 
Onward  to  the  black  pitch-water ! " 

Then  he  took  the  oil  of  Nahma, 
And  the  bows  and  sides  anointed, 
Smeared  them  well  with  oil,  that  swiftly 
He  might  pass  the  black  pitch-water. 

All  night  long  he  sailed  upon  it, 
Sailed  upon  that  sluggish  water, 
Covered  with  its  mould  of  ages, 
Black  with  rotting  water-rushes, 
Rank  with  flags  and  leaves  of  lilies, 
Stagnant,  lifeless,  dreary,  dismal, 
Lighted  by  the  shimmering  moonlight, 
And  by  will*o'-the-wisps  illumined, 
Fires  by  ghosts  of  dead  men  kindled, 
In  their  weary  night-encampments. 

All  the  air  was  white  with  moonlight, 


All  the  water  black  with  shadow, 
And  around  him  the  Suggema, 
The  mosquitos,  sang  their  war-song, 
And  the  fire-flies,  Wah-wah-taysee, 
Waved  their  torches  to  mislead  him ; 
And  the  bull-frog,  the  Dahinda, 
Thrust  his  head  into  the  moonlight, 
Fixed  his  yellow  eyes  upon  him, 
Sobbed  and  sank  beneath  the  surface ; 
And  anon  a  thousand  whistles, 
Answered  over  all  the  fen-lands, 
And  the  heron,  the  Shuh-shuh-gah, 
Far  off  on  the  reedy  margin, 
Heralded  the  hero's  coming. 

Westward  thus  fared  Hiawatha, 
Toward  the  realm  of  Megissogwon, 
Toward  the  land  of  the  Pearl-Feather, 
Till  the  level  moon  stared  at  him, 
In  his  face  stared  pale  and  haggard, 
Till  the  sun  was  hot  behind  him, 


Till  it  burned  upon  his  shoulders, 
And  before  him  on  the  upland 
He  could  see  the  Shining  Wigwam 
Of  the  Manito  of  Wampum, 
Of  the  mightiest  of  Magicians. 

Then  once  more  Cheemaun  he  patted, 
To  his  birch-canoe  said,  "  Onward ! " 
And  it  stirred  in  all  its  fibres, 
And  with  one  great  bound  of  triumph 
Leaped  across  the  water-lilies, 
Leaped  through  tangled  flags  and  rushes, 
And  upon  the  beach  beyond  them 
Dry-shod  landed  Hiawatha. 

Straight  he  took  his  bow  of  ash-tree, 
One  end  on  the  sand  he  rested, 
With  his  knee  he  pressed  the  middle, 
Stretched  the  faithful  bow-string  tighter, 
Took  an  arrow,  jasper-headed, 
Shot  it  at  the  Shining  Wigwam, 
Sent  it  singing  as  a  herald, 


As  a  bearer  of  his  message. 

Of  his  challenge  loud  and  lofty : 

"  Come  forth  from  your  lodge,  Pearl-Feather 

Hiawatha  waits  your  coming !  " 

Straightway  from  the  Shining  Wigwam 
Came  the  mighty  Megissogwon, 
Tall  of  stature,  broad  of  shoulder, 
Dark  and  terrible  in  aspect, 
Clad  from  head  to  foot  in  wampum, 
Armed  with  all  his  warlike  weapons, 
Painted  like  the  sky  of  morning, 
Streaked  with  crimson,  blue  and  yellow, 
Crested  with  great  eagle-feathers, 
Streaming  upward,  streaming  outward. 

"  Well  I  know  you,  Hiawatha ! " 
Cried  he  in  a  voice  of  thunder, 
In  a  tone  of  loud  derision. 
"  Hasten  back,  O  Shaugodaya ! 
Hasten  back  among  the  women, 
Back  to  old  Nokomis,  Faint-heart ! 


I  will  slay  you  as  you  stand  there, 
As  of  old  I  slew  her  father ! " 

But  my  Hiawatha  answered, 
Nothing  daunted,  fearing  nothing : 
"  Big  words  do  not  smite  like  war-clubs, 
Boastful  breath  is  not  a  bow-string, 
Taunts  are  not  so  sharp  as  arrows, 
Deeds  are  better  things  than  words  are, 
Actions  mightier  than  boastings ! " 

Then  began  the  greatest  battle 
That  the  sun  had  ever  looked  on, 
That  the  war-birds  ever  witnessed. 
All  a  Summer's  day  it  lasted, 
From  the  sunrise  to  the  sunset ; 
For  the  shafts  of  Hiawatha 
Harmless  hit  the  shirt  of  wampum, 
Harmless  fell  the  blows  he  dealt  it 
With  his  mittens,  Minjekahwun, 
Harmless  fell  the  heavy  war-club ; 
It  could  dash  the  rocks  asunder. 


But  it  could  not  break  the  meshes 
Of  that  magic  shirt  of  wampum. 

Till  at  sunset  Hiawatha, 
Leaning  on  his  bow  of  ash-tree, 
Wounded,  weary,  and  desponding, 
With  his  mighty  war- club  broken, 
With  his  mittens  torn  and  tattered, 
And  three  useless  arrows  only, 
Paused  to  rest  beneath  a  pine-tree, 
From  whose  branches  trailed  the  mosses, 
And  whose  trunk  was  coated  over 
With  the  Dead-man's  Moccason-leather, 
With  the  fungus  white  and  yellow. 

Suddenly  from  the  boughs  above  him 
Sang  the  Mama,  the  woodpecker : 
"  Aim  your  arrows,  Hiawatha, 
At  the  head  of  Megissogwon, 
Strike  the  tuft  of  hair  upon  it, 
At  their  roots  the  long  black  tresses ; 
There  alone  can  he  be  wounded  ! " 


Winged  with  feathers,  tipped  with  jasper, 
Swift  flew  Hiawatha's  arrow, 
Just  as  Megissogwon,  stooping, 
Raised  a  heavy  stone  to  throw  it. 
Full  upon  the  crown  it  struck  him, 
At  the  roots  of  his  long  tresses, 
And  he  reeled  and  staggered  forward. 
Plunging  like  a  wounded  bison, 
Yes,  like  Pezhekee,  the  bison, 
When  the  snow  is  on  the  prairie. 

Swifter  flew  the  second  arrow, 
In  the  pathway  of  the  other, 
Piercing  deeper  than  the  other, 
Wounding  sorer  than  the  other; 
And  the  knees  of  Megissogwon 
Shook  like  windy  reeds  beneath  him, 
Bent  and  trembled  like  the  rushes. 

But  the  third  and  latest  arrow 
Swiftest  flew  and  wounded  sorest, 
And  the  mighty  Megissogwon 

filAWATHA  AND  THE  PEARL-FEATHER.         123 

Saw  the  fiery  eyes  of  Pauguk, 
Saw  the  eyes  of  Death  glare  at  him, 
Heard  his  voice  call  in  the  darkness ; 
At  the  feet  of  Hiawatha 
Lifeless  lay  the  great  Pearl-Feather, 
Lay  the  mightiest  of  Magicians. 

Then  the  grateful  Hiawatha 
Called  the  Mama,  the  woodpecker, 
From  his  perch  among  the  branches. 
Of  the  melancholy  pine-tree, 
And,  in  honour  of  his  service, 
Stained  with  blood  the  tuft  of  feathers 
On  the  little  head  of  Mama ; 
Even  to  this  day  he  wears  it, 
Wears  the  tuft  of  crimson  feathers, 
As  a  symbol  of  his  service. 

Then  he  stripped  the  shirt  of  wampum 
From  the  back  of  Megissogwon, 
As  a  trophy  of  the  battle, 
As  a  signal  of  his  conquest. 


On  the  shore  he  left  the  body, 
Half  on  land  and  half  on  water, 
In  the  sand  his  feet  were  buried, 
And  his  face  was  in  the  water. 
And  above  him,  wheeled  and  clamoured 
The  Keneu,  the  great  war-eagle, 
Sailing  round  in  narrower  circles, 
Hovering  nearer,  nearer,  nearer. 

From  the,  wigwam  Hiawatha 
Bore  the  wealth  of  Megissogwon, 
All  his  wealth  of  skins  and  wampum, 
Furs  of  bison  and  of  beaver, 
Furs  of  sable  and  of  ermine, 
Wampum  belts  and  strings  and  pouches, 
Quivers  wrought  with  beads  of  wampum, 
Filled  with  arrows,  silver-headed. 

Homeward  then  he  sailed  exulting, 
Homeward  through  the  black  pitch-water, 
Homeward  through  the  weltering  serpents, 
With  the  trophies  of  the  battle, 


With  a  shout  and  song  of  triumph. 

On  the  shore  stood  old  Nokomis, 
On  the  shore  stood  Chibiabos, 
And  the  very  strong  man,  Kwasind, 
Waiting  for  the  hero's  coming, 
Listening  to  his  song  of  triumph. 
And  the  people  of  the  village 
Welcomed  him  with  songs  and  dances, 
Made  a  joyous  feast,  and  shouted : 
(e  Honour  be  to  Hiawatha  ! 
He  has  slain  the  great  Pearl-Feather, 
Slain  the  mightiest  of  Magicians, 
Him,  who  sent  the  fiery  fever, 
Sent  the  white  fog  from  the  fen-lands, 
Sent  disease  and  death  among  us !" 

Ever  dear  to  Hiawatha 
Was  the  memory  of  Mama  I 
And  in  token  of  his  friendship, 
As  a  mark  of  his  remembrance, 
He  adorned  and  decked  his  pipe-stem 


With  the  crimson  tuft  of  feathers, 
With  the  blood-red  crest  of  Mama. 
But  the  wealth  of  Megissogwon, 
All  the  trophies  of  the  battle, 
He  divided  with  his  people, 
Shared  it  equally  among  them. 



"  As  unto  the  bow  the  cord  is, 

So  unto  the  man  is  woman, 

Though  she  bends  him,  she  obeys  him, 

Though  she  draws  him,  yet  she  follows, 

Useless  each  without  the  other!" 

Thus  the  youthful  Hiawatha 
Said  within  himself  and  pondered, 
Much  perplexed  by  various  feelings, 
Listless,  longing,  hoping,  fearing, 
Dreaming  still  of  Minnehaha, 
Of  the  lovely  Laughing  Water, 
In  the  land  of  the  Dacotahs. 


"  Wed  a  maiden  of  your  people," 
Warning  said  the  old  Nokomis ; 
"  Go  not  eastward,  go  not  westward, 
For  a  stranger,  whom  we  know  not ! 
Like  a  fire  upon  the  hearthstone 
Is  a  neighbour's  homely  daughter, 
Like  the  starlight  or  the  moonligh 
Is  the  handsomest  of  strangers  ! " 

Thus  dissuading  spake  Nokomis, 
And  my  Hiawatha  answered 
Only  this :  "  Dear  old  Nokomis, 
Very  pleasant  is  the  firelight, 
But  I  like  the  starlight  better, 
Better  do  I  like  the  moonlight !" 

Gravely  then  said  old  Nokomis : 
"  Bring  not  here  an  idle  maiden, 
Bring  not  here  a  useless  woman, 
Hands  unskilful,  feet  unwilling ; 
Bring  a  wife  with  nimble  fingers, 
Heart  and  hand  that  move  together, 


Feet  that  run  on  willing  errands  ! " 

Smiling  answered  Hiawatha : 
"  In  the  land  of  the  Dacotahs 
Lives  the  Arrow-maker's  daughter, 
Minnehaha,  Laughing  Water, 
Handsomest  of  all  the  women. 
I  will  bring  her  to  your  wigwam, 
She  shall  run  upon  your  errands, 
Be  your  starlight,  moonlight,  firelight, 
Be  the  sunlight  of  my  people ! " 

Still  dissuading  said  Nokomis : 
ee  Bring  not  to  my  lodge  a  stranger 
From  the  land  of  the  Dacotahs  ! 
Very  fierce  are  the  Dacotahs, 
Often  is  there  war  between  us, 
There  are  feuds  yet  unforgotten, 
Wounds  that  ache  and  still  may  open  ! " 

Laughing  answered  Hiawatha : 
"  For  that  reason,  if  no  other, 
Would  I  wed  the  fair  Dacotah, 



That  our  tribes  might  be  united, 
That  old  feuds  might  be  forgotten, 
And  old  wounds  be  healed  for  ever ! " 

Thus  departed  Hiawatha 
To  the  land  of  the  Dacotahs, 
To  the  land  of  handsome  women  ; 
Striding  over  moor  and  meadow, 
Through  interminable  forests, 
Through  uninterrupted  silence. 

With  his  moccasons  of  magic, 
At  each  stride  a  mile  he  measured ; 
Yet  the  way  seemed  long  before  him, 
And  his  heart  outrun  his  footsteps ; 
And  he  journeyed  without  resting, 
Till  he  heard  the  cataract's  thunder, 
Heard  the  Falls  of  Minnehaha 
Calling  to  him  through  the  silence. 
"  Pleasant  is  the  sound ! "  he  murmured3 
"  Pleasant  is  the  voice  that  calls  me ! " 

On  the  outskirts  of  the  forest, 


'Twixt  the  shadow  and  the  sunshine, 
Herds  of  fallow  deer  were  feeding, 
But  they  saw  not  Hiawatha; 
To  his  bow  he  whispered,  "  Fail  not  I " 
To  his  arrow  whispered,  "  Swerve  not!" 
Sent  it  singing  on  its  errand, 
To  the  red  heart  of  the  roebuck ; 
Threw  the  deer  across  his  shoulder, 
And  sped  forward  without  pausing. 

At  the  doorway  of  his  wigwam 
Sat  the  ancient  Arrow-maker, 
In  the  land  of  the  Dacotahs, 
Making  arrow-heads  of  jasper, 
Arrow-heads  of  chalcedony. 
At  his  side,  in  all  her  beauty, 
Sat  the  lovely  Minnehaha, 
Sat  his  daughter,  Laughing  Water, 
Plaiting  mats  of  flags  and  rushes  ; 
Of  the  past  the  old  man's  thoughts  were, 
And  the  maiden's  of  the  future. 


He  was  thinking,  as  he  sat  there, 
Of  the  days  when  with  such  arrows 
He  had  struck  the  deer  and  bison, 
On  the  Muskoday,  the  meadow ; 
Shot  the  wild  goose,  flying  southward, 
On  the  wing,  the  clamorous  Wawa ; 
Thinking  of  the  great  war-parties, 
How  they  came  to  buy  his  arrows, 
Could  not  fight  without  his  arrows. 
Ah,  no  more  such  noble  warriors 
Could  be  found  on  earth  as  they  were  ! 
Now  the  men  were  all  like  women, 
Only  used  their  tongues  for  weapons  ! 

She  was  thinking  of  a  hunter, 
From  another  tribe  and  country, 
Young  and  tall  and  very  handsome, 
Who  one  morning,  in  the  Spring-time, 
Came  to  buy  her  father's  arrows, 
Sat  and  rested  in  the  wigwam, 
Lingered  long  about  the  doorway, 


Looking  back  as  he  departed. 
She  had  heard  her  father  praise  him, 
Praise  his  courage  and  his  wisdom ; 
Would  he  come  again  for  arrows 
To  the  Falls  of  Minnehaha  ? 
On  the  mat  her  hands  lay  idle, 
And  her  eyes  were  very  dreamy. 

Through  their  thoughts  they  heard  a  footstep, 
Heard  a  rustling  in  the  branches, 
And  with  glowing  cheek  and  forehead, 
With  the  deer  upon  his  shoulders, 
Suddenly  from  out  the  woodlands 
Hiawatha  stood  before  them. 

Straight  the  ancient  Arrow-maker 
Looked  up  gravely  from  his  labour, 
Laid  aside  the  unfinished  arrow, 
Bade  him  enter  at  the  doorway, 
.  Saying,  as  he  rose  to  meet  him, 
"  Hiawatha,  you  are  welcome  !" 

At  the  feet  of  Laughing  Water 


Hiawatha  laid  his  burden, 
Threw  the  red  deer  from  his  shoulders ; 
And  the  maiden  looked  up  at  him, 
Looked  up  from  her  mat  of  rushes, 
Said  with  gentle  look  and  accent, 
"  You  are  welcome,  Hiawatha ! " 

Very  spacious  was  the  wigwam, 
Made  of  deer-skin  dressed  and  whitened, 
With  the  Gods  of  the  Dacotahs 
Drawn  and  painted  on  its  curtains, 
And  so  tall  the  doorway,  hardly 
Hiawatha  stooped  to  enter, 
Hardly  touched  his  eagle-feathers 
As  he  entered  at  the  doorway. 

Then  uprose  the  Laughing  Water, 
From  the  ground  fair  Minnehaha, 
Laid  aside  her  mat  unfinished, 
Brought  forth  food  and  set  before  them, 
Water  brought  them  from  the  brooklet, 
Gave  them  food  in  earthen  vessels, 


Gave  them  drink  in  bowls  of  bass-wood, 
Listened  while  the  guest  was  speaking, 
Listened  while  her  father  answered, 
But  not  once  her  lips  she  opened, 
Not  a  single  word  she  uttered. 

Yes,  as  in  a  dream  she  listened 
To  the  words  of  Hiawatha, 
As  he  talked  of  old  Nokomis, 
Who  had  nursed  him  in  his  childhood, 
As  he  told  of  his  companions, 
Chibiabos,  the  musician, 
And  the  very  strong  man,  Kwasind, 
And  of  happiness  and  plenty 
In  the  land  of  the  Ojibways, 
In  the  pleasant  land  and  peaceful. 

"  After  many  years  of  warfare, 
Many  years  of  strife  and  bloodshed, 
There  is  peace  between  the  Ojibways 
And  the  tribe  of  the  Dacotahs." 
Thus  continued  Hiawatha, 


And  then  added,  speaking  slowly, 
"  That  this  peace  may  last  for  ever, 
And  our  hands  be  clasped  more  closely, 
And  our  hearts  be  more  united, 
Give  me  as  my  wife  this  maiden, 
Minnehaha,  Laughing  Water, 
Loveliest  of  Dacotah  women  ! " 

And  the  ancient  Arrow-maker 
Paused  a  moment  ere  he  answered, 
Smoked  a  little  while  in  silence, 
Looked  at  Hiawatha  proudly, 
Fondly  looked  at  Laughing  Water, 
And  made  answer  very  gravely : 
"  Yes,  if  Minnehaha  wishes  ; 
Let  your  heart  speak,  Minnehaha ! " 

And  the  lovely  Laughing  Water 
Seemed  more  lovely  as  she  stood  there, 
Neither  willing  nor  reluctant, 
As  she  went  to  Hiawatha 
Softly  took  the  seat  beside  him, 


While  she  said,  and  blushed  to  say  it, 
"  I  will  follow  you,  my  husband  ! " 

This  was  Hiawatha's  wooing  ! 
Thus  it  was  he  won  the  daughter 
Of  the  ancient  Arrow-maker, 
In  the  land  of  the  Dacotahs ! 

From  the  wigwam  he  departed, 
Leading  with  him  Laughing  Water ; 
Hand  in  hand  they  went  together, 
Through  the  woodland  and  the  meadow, 
Left  the  old  man  standing  lonely 
At  the  doorway  of  his  wigwam, 
Heard  the  Falls  of  Minnehaha 
Calling  to  them  from  the  distance, 
Crying  to  them  from  afar  off, 
"Fare  thee  well,  O  Minnehaha!" 

And  the  ancient  Arrow-maker 
Turned  again  unto  his  labour, 
Sat  down  by  his  sunny  doorway, 
Murmuring  to  himself,  and  saying : 


"  Thus  it  is  our  daughters  leave  us, 
Those  we  love,  and  those  who  love  us ! 
Just  when  they  have  learned  to  help  us, 
When  we  are  old  and  lean  upon  them, 
Comes  a  youth  with  flaunting  feathers, 
With  his  flute  of  reeds,  a  stranger 
Wanders  piping  through  the  village, 
Beckons  to  the  fairest  maiden, 
And  she  follows  where  he  leads  her, 
Leaving  all  things  for  the  stranger  ! " 

Pleasant  wTas  the  journey  homeward, 
Through  interminable  forests, 
Over  meadow,  over  mountain, 
Over  river,  hill,  and  hollow. 
Short  it  seemed  to  Hiawatha, 
Though  they  journeyed  very  slowly, 
Though  his  pace  he  checked  and  slackened 
To  the  steps  of  Laughing  Water. 
Over  wide  and  rushing  rivers 
In  his  arms  he  bore  the  maiden ; 


Light  he  thought  her  as  a  feather, 
As  the  plume  upon  his  head-gear ; 
Cleared  the  tangled  pathway  for  her, 
Bent  aside  the  swaying  branches, 
Made  at  night  a  lodge  of  branches, 
And  a  bed  with  boughs  of  hemlock, 
And  a  fire  before  the  doorway 
With  the  dry  cones  of  the  pine-tree. 

All  the  travelling  winds  went  with  them, 
O'er  the  meadow,  through  the  forest ; 
All  the  stars  of  night  looked  at  them, 
Watched  with  sleepless  eyes  their  slumber ; 
From  his  ambush  in  the  oak-tree 
Peeped  the  squirrel,  Adjidaumo, 
Watched  with  eager  eyes  the  lovers ; 
And  the  rabbit,  the  Wabasso, 
Scampered  from  the  path  before  them, 
Peering,  peeping  from  his  burrow, 
Sat  erect  upon  his  haunches, 
Watched  with  curious  eyes  the  lovers. 


Pleasant  was  the  journey  homeward ! 
All  the  birds  sang  loud  and  sweetly 
Songs  of  happiness  and  heart's-ease ; 
Sang  the  blue-bird,  the  Owaissa, 
"  Happy  are  you,  Hiawatha, 
Having  such  a  wife  to  love  you  I " 
Sang  the  Opechee,  the  robin, 
"  Happy  are  you,  Laughing  Water, 
Having  such  a  noble  husband  ! " 

From  the  sky  the  sun  benignant 
Looked  upon  them  through  the  branches, 
Saying  to  them,  "  O  my  children, 
Love  is  sunshine,  hate  is  shadow, 
Life  is  checkered  shade  and  sunshine, 
Rule  by  love,  O  Hiawatha  ! " 

From  the  sky  the  moon  looked  at  them, 
Filled  the  lodge  with  mystic  splendours, 
Whispered  to  them,  "  O  my  children, 
Day  is  restless,  night  is  quiet, 
Man  imperious,  woman  feeble ; 


Half  is  mine,  although  I  follow ; 
Rule  by  patience,  Laughing  Water  ! " 

Thus  it  was  they  journeyed  homeward ; 
Thus  it  was  that  Hiawatha 
To  the  lodge  of  old  Nokomis 
Brought  the  moonlight,  starlight,  firelight, 
Brought  the  sunshine  of  his  people, 
Minnehaha,  Laughing  Water, 
Handsomest  of  all  the  women 
In  the  land  of  the  Dacotahs, 
In  the  land  of  handsome  women. 



You  shall  hear  how  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
How  the  handsome  Yenadizze 
Danced  at  Hiawatha's  weddinor ; 

o  ' 

How  the  gentle  Chibiabos, 
He  the  sweetest  of  musicians, 
Sang  his  songs  of  love  and  longing ; 
How  lagoo,  the  great  boaster, 
He  the  marvellous  story-teller, 
Told  his  tales  of  strange  adventure, 
That  the  feast  might  be  more  joyous, 
That  the  time  might  pass  more  gayly, 
And  the  guests  be  more  contented. 


Sumptuous  was  the  feast  Nokomis 
Made  at  Hiawatha's  wedding ; 
All  the  bowls  were  made  of  bass-wood, 
White  and  polished  very  smoothly, 
All  the  spoons  of  horn  of  bison, 
Black  and  polished  very  smoothly. 

She  had  sent  through  all  the  village 
Messengers  with  wands  of  willow, 
As  a  sign  of  invitation, 
As  a  token  of  the  feasting ; 
And  the  wedding  guests  assembled, 
Clad  in  all  their  richest  raiment, 
Robes  of  fur  and  belts  of  wampum, 
Splendid  with  their  paint  and  plumage, 
Beautiful  with  beads  and  tassels. 

First  they  ate  the  sturgeon,  Nahma, 
And  the  pike,  the  Maskenozha, 
Caught  and  cooked  by  old  Nokomis ; 
Then  on  pemican  they  feasted, 
Pemican  and  buffalo  marrow, 


Haunch  of  deer  and  hump  of  bison, 
Yellow  cakes  of  the  Mondamin, 
And  the  wild  rice  of  the  river. 

But  the  gracious  Hiawatha 
And  the  lovely  Laughing  Water, 
And  the  careful  old  Nokomis, 
Tasted  not  the  food  before  them, 
Only  waited  on  the  others, 
Only  served  their  guests  in  silence. 

And  when  all  the  guests  had  finished, 
Old  Nokomis,  brisk  and  busy, 
From  an  ample  pouch  of  otter, 
Filled  the  red  stone  pipes  for  smoking 
With  tobacco  from  the  South-land, 
Mixed  with  bark  of  the  red  willow, 
And  with  herbs  and  leaves  of  fragrance. 

Then  she  said,  "  O  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
Dance  for  us  your  merry  dances, 
Dance  the  Beggar's  Dance  to  please  us, 
That  the  feast  may  be  more  joyous, 


That  the  time  may  pass  more  gayly, 
And  our  guests  be  more  contented ! " 

Then  the  handsome  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
He  the  idle  Yenadizze, 
He  the  merry  mischief-maker. 
Whom  the  people  called  the  Storm-Fool, 
Rose  among  the  guests  assembled. 

Skilled  was  he  in  sports  and  pastimes, 
In  the  merry  dance  of  snow-shoes, 
In  the  play  of  quoits  and  ball-play ; 
Skilled  was  he  in  games  of  hazard, 
In  all  games  of  skill  and  hazard, 
Pugasaing,  the  Bowl  and  Counters, 
Kuntassoo,  the  Game  of  Plum-stones. 

Though  the  warriors  called  him  Faint-Heart, 
Called  him  coward,  Shaugodaya, 
Idler,  gambler,  Yenadizze, 
Little  heeded  he  their  jesting, 
Little  cared  he  for  their  insults, 
For  the  women  and  the  maidens 



Loved  the  handsome  Pau-Puk-Keewis. 

He  was  dressed  in  shirt  of  doe-skin, 
White  and  soft,  and  fringed  with  ermine, 
All  inwrought  with  beads  of  wampum ; 
He  was  dressed  in  deer-skin  leggings, 
Fringed  with  hedgehog  quills  and  ermine, 
And  in  moccasons  of  buckskin, 
Thick  with  quills  and  beads  embroidered. 
On  his  head  were  plumes  of  swan's  down, 
On  his  heels  were  tails  of  foxes, 
In  one  hand  a  fan  of  feathers, 
And  a  pipe  was  in  the  other. 

Barred  with  streaks  of  red  and  yellow, 
Streaks  of  blue  and  bright  vermilion, 
Shone  the  face  of  Pau-Puk-Keewis. 
From  his  forehead  fell  his  tresses, 
Smooth,  and  parted  like  a  woman's, 
Shining  bright  with  oil,  and  plaited, 
Hung  with  braids  of  scented  grasses, 
As  among  the  guests  assembled, 


To  the  sound  of  flutes  and  singing, 
To  the  sound  of  drums  and  voices, 
Rose  the  handsome  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
And  began  his  mystic  dances. 

First  he  danced  a  solemn  measure, 
Very  slow  in  step  and  gesture, 
In  and  out  among  the  pine-trees, 
Through  the  shadows  and  the  sunshine, 
Treading  softly  like  a  panther. 
Then  more  swiftly  and  still  swifter, 
Whirling,  spinning  round  in  circles, 
Leaping  o'er  the  guests  assembled, 
Eddying  round  and  round  the  wigwam, 
Till  the  leaves  went  whirling  with  him, 
Till  the  dust  and  wind  together 
Swept  in  eddies  round  about  him. 

Then  along  the  sandy  margin 
Of  the  lake,  the  Big-Sea-Water, 
On  he  sped  with  frenzied  gestures, 
Stamped  upon  the  sand,  and  tossed  it 


Wildly  in  the  air  around  him ; 
Till  the  wind  became  a  whirlwind, 
Till  the  sand  was  blown  and  sifted 
Like  great  snowdrifts  o'er  the  landscape, 
Heaping  all  the  shores  with  Sand  Dunes, 
Sand  Hills  of  the  Nagow  Wudjoo ! 

Thus  the  merry  Pau-Puk-Keewis 
Danced  his  Beggar's  Dance  to  please  them, 
And,  returning,  sat  down  laughing 
There  among  the  guests  assembled, 
Sat  and  fanned  himself  serenely 
With  his  fan  of  turkey-feathers. 

Then  they  said  to  Chibiabos, 
To  the  friend  of  Hiawatha, 
To  the  sweetest  of  all  singers, 
To  the  best  of  all  musicians, 
"  Sing  to  us,  O  Chibiabos ! 
Songs  of  love  and  songs  of  longing, 
That  the  feast  may  be  more  joyous, 
That  the  time  may  pass  more  gayly, 


And  our  guests  be  more  contented  ! " 

And  the  gentle  Chibiabos 
Sang  in  accents  sweet  and  tender, 
Sang  in  tones  of  deep  emotion, 
Songs  of  love  and  songs  of  longing ; 
Looking  still  at  Hiawatha, 
Looking  at  fair  Laughing  Water, 
Sang  he  softly,  sang  in  this  wise  : 

"  Onaway  !     Awake,  beloved  ! 
Thou  the  wild-flower  of  the  forest ! 
Thou  the  wild-bird  of  the  prairie  ! 
Thou  with  eyes  so  soft  and  fawn-like ! 

"  If  thou  only  lookest  at  me, 
I  am  happy,  I  am  happy, 
As  the  lilies  of  the  prairie, 
When  they  feel  the  dew  upon  them ! 

"  Sweet  thy  breath  is  as  the  fragrance 
Of  the  wild-flowers  in  the  morning, 
As  their  fragrance  is  at  evening, 
In  the  Moon  when  leaves  are  falling. 


"  Does  not  all  the  blood  within  me 
Leap  to  meet  thee,  leap  to  meet  thee, 
As  the  springs  to  meet  the  sunshine, 
In  the  Moon  when  nights  are  brightest  ? 

"  Onaway  !  my  heart  sings  to  thee, 
Sings  with  joy  when  thou  art  near  me, 
As  the  sighing,  singing  branches 
In  the  pleasant  Moon  of  Strawberries  ! 

ef  When  thou  art  not  pleased,  beloved, 
Then  my  heart  is  sad  and  darkened, 
As  the  shining  river  darkens 
When  the  clouds  drop  shadows  on  it ! 

"  When  thou  smilest,  my  beloved, 
Then  my  troubled  heart  is  brightened, 
As  in  sunshine  gleam  the  ripples 
That  the  cold  wind  makes  in  rivers. 

"  Smiles  the  earth,  and  smile  the  waters, 
Smile  the  cloudless  skies  above  us, 
But  I  lose  the  way  of  smiling 
When  thou  art  no  longer  near  me ! 


"  I  myself,  myself!  behold  me  ! 
Blood  of  my  beating  heart,  behold  me  ! 
O  awake,  awake,  beloved ! 
Onaway  !  awake,  beloved ! " 

Thus  the  gentle  Chibiabos 
Sang  his  song  of  love  and  longing ; 
And  lagoo,  the  great  boaster, 
He  the  marvellous  story-teller, 
He  the  friend  of  old  Nokomis, 
Jealous  of  the  sweet  musician, 
Jealous  of  the  applause  they  gave  him, 
Saw  in  all  the  eyes  around  him, 
Saw  in  all  their  looks  and  gestures, 
That  the  wedding  guests  assembled 
Longed  to  hear  his  pleasant  stories, 
His  immeasurable  falsehoods. 

Yery  boastful  was  lagoo ; 
Never  heard  he  an  adventure 
But  himself  had  met  a  greater ; 
Never  any  deed  of  daring 


But  himself  had  done  a  bolder ; 
Never  any  marvellous  story 
But  himself  could  tell  a  stranger. 

Would  you  listen  to  his  boasting, 
Would  you  only  give  him  credence, 
No  one  ever  shot  an  arrow 
Half  so  far  and  high  as  he  had ; 
Ever  caught  so  many  fishes, 
Ever  killed  so  many  reindeer, 
Ever  trapped  so  many  beaver ! 

None  could  run  so  fast  as  he  could, 
None  could  dive  so  deep  as  he  could, 
None  could  swim  so  far  as  he  could ; 
None  had  made  so  many  journeys, 
None  had  seen  so  many  wonders, 
As  this  wonderful  lagoo, 
As  this  marvellous  story-teller ! 

Thus  his  name  became  a  by-word 
And  a  jest  among  the  people ; 
And  whene'er  a  boastful  hunter 


Praised  his  own  address  too  highly, 
Or  a  warrior,  home  returning, 
Talked  too  much  of  his  achievements, 
All  his  hearers  cried,  "  lagoo ! 
Here  's  lagoo  come  among  us  ! " 

He  it  was  who  carved  the  cradle 
Of  the  little  Hiawatha, 
Carved  its  framework  out  of  linden, 
Bound  it  strong  with  reindeer  sinews ; 
He  it  was  who  taught  him  later 
How  to  make  his  bows  and  arrows, 
How  to  make  the  bows  of  ash-tree, 
And  the  arrows  of  the  oak-tree. 
So  among  the  guests  assembled 
At  my  Hiawatha's  wedding 
Sat  lagoo,  old  and  ugly, 
Sat  the  marvellous  story-teller. 

And  they  said,  "  O  good  lagoo, 
Tell  us  now  a  tale  of  wonder, 
Tell  us  of  some  strange  adventure, 


That  the  feast  may  be  more  joyous, 
That  the  time  may  pass  more  gayly, 
And  our  guests  be  more  contented ! " 
And  lagoo  answered  straightway, 
"  You  shall  hear  a  tale  of  wonder, 
You  shall  hear  the  strange  adventures 
Of  Osseo,  the  Magician, 
From  the  Evening  Star  descended." 



CAN  it  be  the  sun  descending 
O'er  the  level  plain  of  water  ? 
Or  the  Red  Swan  floating,  flying, 
Wounded  by  the  magic  arrow, 
Staining  all  the  waves  with  crimson, 
With  the  crimson  of  its  life-blood, 
Filling  all  the  air  with  splendour, 
With  the  splendour  of  its  plumage  ? 

Yes ;  it  is  the  sun  descending, 
Sinking  down  into  the  water ; 
All  the  sky  is  stained  with  purple, 
All  the  water  flushed  with  crimson  ! 


No ;  it  is  the  Red  Swan  floating, 
Diving  down  beneath  the  water ; 
To  the  sky  its  wings  are  lifted, 
With  its  blood  the  waves  are  reddened  ! 

Over  it  the  Star  of  Evening 
Melts  and  trembles  through  the  purple, 
Hangs  suspended  in  the  twilight. 
No ;  it  is  a  bead  of  wampum 
On  the  robes  of  the  Great  Spirit, 
As  he  passes  through  the  twilight, 
Walks  in  silence  through  the  heavens  ! 

This  with  joy  beheld  lagoo 
And  he  said  in  haste :  "  Behold  it ! 
See  the  sacred  Star  of  Evening ! 
You  shall  hear  a  tale  of  wonder, 
Hear  the  story  of  Osseo, 
Son  of  the  Evening  Star,  Osseo ! 

"  Once,  in  days  no  more  remembered, 
Ages  nearer  the  beginning, 
When  the  heavens  were  closer  to  us, 


And  the  Gods  were  more  familiar, 
In  the  North-land  lived  a  hunter, 
With  ten  young  and  comely  daughters, 
Tall  and  lithe  as  wands  of  willow ; 
Only  Oweenee,  the  youngest, 
She  the  wilful  and  the  wayward, 
She  the  silent,  dreamy  maiden, 
Was  the  fairest  of  the  sisters. 

"All  these  women  married  warriors, 
Married  brave  and  haughty  husbands ; 
Only  Oweenee,  the  youngest, 
Laughed  and  flouted  all  her  lovers, 
All  her  young  and  handsome  suitors, 
And  then  married  old  Osseo, 
Old  Osseo,  poor  and  ugly, 
Broken  with  age  and  weak  with  coughing, 
Always  coughing  like  a  squirrel. 

"  Ah,  but  beautiful  within  him 
Was  the  spirit  of  Osseo, 
From  the  Evening  Star  descended, 


Star  of  Evening,  Star  of  Woman, 
Star  of  tenderness  and  passion  ! 
All  its  fire  was  in  his  bosom, 
All  its  beauty  in  his  spirit, 
All  its  mystery  in  his  being, 
All  its  splendour  in  his  language  ! 

"  And  her  lovers,  the  rejected, 
Handsome  men  with  belts  of  wampum, 
Handsome  men  with  paint  and  feathers, 
Pointed  at  her  in  derision, 
Followed  her  with  jest  and  laughter. 
But  she  said :  e  I  care  not  for  you, 
Care  not  for  your  belts  of  wampum, 
Care  not  for  your  paint  and  feathers, 
Care  not  for  your  jests  and  laughter ; 
I  am  happy  with  Osseo  I ' 

"  Once  to  some  great  feast  invited, 
Through  the  damp  and  dusk  of  evening 
Walked  together  the  ten  sisters, 
Walked  together  with  their  husbands  ; 


Slowly  followed  old  Osseo, 
With  fair  Oweenee  beside  him ; 
All  the  others  chatted  gayly, 
These  two  only  walked  in  silence. 

"  At  the  western  sky  Osseo 
Gazed  intent,  as  if  imploring, 
Often  stopped  and  gazed  imploring 
At  the  trembling  Star  of  Evening, 
At  the  tender  Star  of  Woman ; 
And  they  heard  him  murmur  softly, 
f  Ah,  showain  nemeshin,  Nosa  I 
Pity,  pity  me,  my  father  ! ' 

"  '  Listen ! '  said  the  eldest  sister, 
f  He  is  praying  to  his  father  ! 
What  a  pity  that  the  old  man 
Does  not  stumble  in  the  pathway, 
Does  not  break  his  neck  by  falling ! ' 
And  they  laughed  till  all  the  forest 
Rang  with  their  unseemly  laughter. 

"  On  their  pathway  through  the  woodland 


Lay  an  oak,  by  storms  uprooted, 

Lay  the  great  trunk  of  an  oak-tree, 

Buried  half  in  leaves  and  mosses, 

Mouldering,  crumbling,  huge  and  hollow. 

And  Osseo,  when  he  saw  it, 

Gave  a  shout,  a  cry  of  anguish, 

Leaped  into  its  yawning  cavern, 

At  one  end  went  in  an  old  man, 

Wasted,  wrinkled,  old,  and  ugly ; 

From  the  other  came  a  young  man, 

Tall  and  straight  and  strong  and  handsome. 

"  Thus  Osseo  was  transfigured, 
Thus  restored  to  youth  and  beauty ; 
But,  alas  for  good  Osseo, 
And  for  Oweenee,  the  faithful ! 
Strangely,  too,  was  she  transfigured. 
Changed  into  a  weak  old  woman, 
With  a  staff  she  tottered  onward, 
Wasted,  wrinkled,  old,  and  ugly  I 
And  the  sisters  and  their  husbands 


Laughed  until  the  echoing  forest 
Rang  with  their  unseemly  laughter. 
•  "  But  Osseo  turned  not  from  her, 
Walked  with  slower  step  beside  her, 
Took  her  hand,  as  brown  and  withered 
As  an  oak-leaf  is  in  Winter, 
Called  her  sweetheart,  Nenemoosha, 
Soothed  her  with  soft  words  of  kindness, 
Till  they  reached  the  lodge  of  feasting, 
Till  they  sat  down  in  the  wigwam, 
Sacred  to  the  Star  of  Evening, 
To  the  tender  Star  of  Woman. 

"  Wrapt  in  visions,  lost  in  dreaming, 
At  the  banquet  sat  Osseo  ; 
All  were  merry,  all  were  happy, 
All  were  joyous  but  Osseo. 
Neither  food  nor  drink  he  tasted, 
Neither  did  he  speak  nor  listen, 
But  as  one  bewildered  sat  he, 
Looking  dreamily  and  sadly, 



First  at  Oweenee,  then  upward 
At  the  gleaming  sky  above  them. 

"  Then  a  voice  was  heard,  a  whisper, 
Coming  from  the  starry  distance, 
Coming  from  the  empty  vastness, 
Low,  and  musical,  and  tender ; 
And  the  voice  said :  e  O  Osseo  ! 
O  my  son,  my  best  beloved ! 
Broken  are  the  spells  that  bound  you, 
All  the  charms  of  the  magicians, 
All  the  magic  powers  of  evil ; 
Come  to  me ;  ascend,  Osseo ! 

"  e  Taste  the  food  that  stands  before  you 
It  is  blessed  and  enchanted, 
It  has  magic  virtues  in  it, 
It  will  change  you  to  a  spirit. 
All  your  bowls  and  all  your  kettles 
Shall  be  wood  and  clay  no  longer ; 
But  the  bowls  be  changed  to  wampum, 
And  the  kettles  shall  be  silver ; 


They  shall  shine  like  shells  of  scarlet, 
Like  the  fire  shall  gleam  and  glimmer. 

ff  e  And  the  women  shall  no  longer 
Bear  the  dreary  doom  of  labour, 
But  be  changed  to  birds,  and  glisten 
With  the  beauty  of  the  starlight, 
Painted  with  the  dusky  splendours 
Of  the  skies  and  clouds  of  evening  !' 

"  What  Osseo  heard  as  whispers, 
What  as  words  he  comprehended, 
Was  but  music  to  the  others, 
Music  as  of  birds  afar  off, 
Of  the  whippoorwill  afar  off, 
Of  the  lonely  Wawonaissa 
Singing  in  the  darksome  forest. 

"  Then  the  lodge  began  to  tremble, 
Straight  began  to  shake  and  tremble, 
And  they  felt  it  rising,  rising, 
Slowly  through  the  air  ascending, 
From  the  darkness  of  the  tree-tops 


Forth  into  the  dewy  starlight, 
Till  it  past  the  topmost  branches ; 
And  behold  !  the  wooden  dishes 
All  were  changed  to  shells  of  scarlet ! 
And  behold  !  the  earthen  kettles 
All  were  changed  to  bowls  of  silver  ! 
And  the  roof-poles  of  the  wigwam 
Were  as  glittering  rods  of  silver, 
And  the  roof  of  bark  upon  them 
As  the  shining  shards  of  beetles. 

"  Then  Osseo  gazed  around  him, 
And  he  saw  the  nine  fair  sisters, 
All  the  sisters  and  their  husbands, 
Changed  to  birds  of  various  plumage. 
Some  were  jays  and  some  were  magpies, 
Others  thrushes,  others  blackbirds ; 
And  they  hopped,  and  sang,  and  twittered, 
Perked  and  fluttered  all  their  feathers, 
Strutted  in  their  shining  plumage, 
And  their  tails  like  fans  unfolded. 


"  Only  Oweenee,  the  youngest, 
Was  not  changed,  biit  sat  in  silence, 
Wasted,  wrinkled,  old,  and  ugly, 
Looking  sadly  at  the  others ; 
Till  Osseo,  gazing  upward, 
Gave  another  cry  of  anguish, 
Such  a  cry  as  he  had  uttered 
By  the  oak-tree  in  the  forest 

"  Then  returned  her  youth  and  beauty, 
And  her  soiled  and  tattered  garments 
Were  transformed  to  robes  of  ermine, 
And  her  staff  became  a  feather, 
Yes,  a  shining  silver  feather  ! 

"  And  again  the  wigwam  trembled, 
Swayed  and  rushed  through  airy  currents, 
Through  transparent  cloud  and  vapour. 
And  amid  celestial  splendours 
On  the  Evening  Star  alighted, 
As  a  snow-flake  falls  on  snow-flake, 
As  a  leaf  drops  on  a  river, 


As  the  thistle-down  on  water. 

"  Forth  with  cheerful  words  of  welcome 
Came  the  father  of  Osseo, 
He  with  radiant  locks  of  silver, 
He  with  eyes  serene  and  tender. 
And  he  said :  f  My  son,  Osseo, 
Hang  the  cage  of  birds  you  bring  there, 
Hang  the  cage  with  rods  of  silver, 
And  the  birds  with  glistening  feathers, 
At  the  doorway  of  my  wigwam.' 

"  At  the  door  he  hung  the  bird-cage, 
And  they  entered  in  and  gladly 
Listened  to  Osseo's  father, 
Ruler  of  the  Star  of  Evening, 
As  he  said :  (  O  my  Osseo ! 
I  have  had  compassion  on  you, 
Given  you  back  your  youth  and  beauty, 
Into  birds  of  various  plumage 
Changed  your  sisters  and  their  husbands ; 
Changed  them  thus  because  they  mocked  you, 


In  the  figure  of  the  old  man, 

In  that  aspect  sad  and  wrinkled, 

Could  not  see  your  heart  of  passion, 

Could  not  see  your  youth  immortal ; 

Only  Oweenee,  the  faithful, 

Saw  your  naked  heart  and  loved  you. 

"  '  In  the  lodge  that  glimmers  yonder 
In  the  little  star  that  twinkles 
Through  the  vapours,  on  the  left  hand, 
Lives  the  envious  Evil  Spirit, 
The  Wabeno,  the  magician, 
Who  transformed  you  to  an  old  man. 
Take  heed  lest  his  beams  fall  on  you, 
For  the  rays  he  darts  around  him 
Are  the  power  of  his  enchantment, 
Are  the  arrows  that  he  uses.' 

"  Many  years,  in  peace  and  quiet, 
On  the  peaceful  Star  of  Evening 
Dwelt  Osseo  with  his  father ; 
Many  years,  in  song  and  flutter,    . 


At  the  doorway  of  the  wigwam, 
Hung  the  cage  with  rods  of  silver, 
And  fair  Oweenee,  the  faithful, 
Bore  a  son  unto  Osseo, 
With  the  beauty  of  his  mother, 
With  the  courage  of  his  father. 

"  And  the  boy  grew  up  and  prospered, 
And  Osseo,  to  delight  him, 
Made  him  little  bows  and  arrows, 
Opened  the  great  cage  of  silver, 
And  let  loose  his  aunts  and  uncles, 
All  those  birds  with  glossy  feathers, 
For  his  little  son  to  shoot  at. 

"  Round  and  round  they  wheeled  and  darted, 
Filled  the  Evening  Star  with  music, 
With  their  songs  of  joy  and  freedom; 
Filled  the  Evening  Star  with  splendour, 
With  the  fluttering  of  their  plumage ; 
Till  the  boy,  the  little  hunter, 
Bent  his  bow  and  shot  an  arrow, 


Shot  a  swift  and  fatal  arrow, 
And  a  bird,  with  shining  feathers, 
At  his  feet  fell  wounded  sorely. 

"  But,  O  wondrous  transformation  ! 
'T  was  no  bird  he  saw  before  him, 
'T  was  a  beautiful  young  wroman, 
With  the  arrow  in  her  bosom ! 

"  When  her  blood  fell  on  the  planet, 
On  the  sacred  Star  of  Evening, 
Broken  was  the  spell  of  magic, 
Powerless  was  the  strange  enchantment, 
And  the  youth,  the  fearless  bowman, 
Suddenly  felt  himself  descending, 
Held  by  unseen  hands,  but  sinking 
Downward  through  the  empty  spaces, 
Downward  through  the  clouds  and  vapours, 
Till  he  rested  on  an  island, 
On  an  island,  green  and  grassy, 
Yonder  in  the  Big-Sea-Water. 

"  After  him  he  saw  descending 


All  the  birds  with  shining  feathers, 
Fluttering,  falling,  wafted  downward, 
Like  the  painted  leaves  of  Autumn  ; 
And  the  lodge  with  poles  of  silver, 
With  its  roof  like  wings  of  beetles, 
Like  the  shining  shards  of  beetles, 
By  the  winds  of  heaven  uplifted, 
Slowly  sank  upon  the  island, 
Bringing  back  the  good  Osseo, 
Bringing  Oweenee,  the  faithful. 

"  Then  the  birds,  again  transfigured, 
Reassumed  the  shape  of  mortals, 
Took  their  shape,  but  not  their  stature  ; 
They  remained  as  Little  People, 
Like  the  pigmies,  the  Ptik-Wudjies, 
And  on  pleasant  nights  of  Summer, 
When  the  Evening  Star  was  shining, 
Hand  in  hand  they  danced  together 
On  the  island's  craggy  headlands, 
On  the  sand-beach  low  and  level. 


"  Still  their  glittering  lodge  is  seen  there, 
On  the  tranquil  Summer  evenings, 
And  upon  the  shore  the  fisher 
Sometimes  hears  their  happy  voices, 
Sees  them  dancing  in  the  starlight ! " 

When  the  story  was  completed, 
When  the  wondrous  tale  was  ended, 
Looking  round  upon  his  listeners, 
Solemnly  lagoo  added : 
"  There  are  great  men,  I  have  known  such, 
Whom  their  people  understand  not, 
Whom  they  even  make  a  jest  of, 
Scoff  and  jeer  at  in  derision. 
From  the  story  of  Osseo 
Let  them  learn  the  fate  of  jesters !" 

All  the  wedding  guests  delighted 
Listened  to  the  marvellous  story, 
Listened  laughing  and  applauding, 
And  they  whispered  to  each  other : 
"  Does  he  mean  himself,  I  wonder  ? 


And  are  we  the  aunts  and  uncles?" 

Then  again  sang  Chibiabos, 
Sang  a  song  of  love  and  longing, 
In  those  accents  sweet  and  tender, 
In  those  tones  of  pensive  sadness, 
Sang  a  maiden's  lamentation 
For  her  lover,  her  Algonquin. 

"  When  I  think  of  my  beloved, 
Ah  me  !  think  of  my  beloved, 
When  my  heart  is  thinking  of  him, 
O  my  sweetheart,  my  Algonquin ! 

"  Ah  me  !  when  I  parted  from  him, 
Round  my  neck  he  hung  the  wampum, 
As  a  pledge,  the  snow-white  wampum, 
O  my  sweetheart,  my  Algonquin ! 

fe  I  will  go  with  you,  he  whispered, 
Ah  me  !  to  your  native  country ; 
Let  me  go  with  you,  he  whispered, 
O  my  sweetheart,  my  Algonquin ! 

"  Far  away,  away,  I  answered, 


Very  far  away,  I  answered, 
Ah  me !  is  my  native  country, 
O  my  sweetheart,  my  Algonquin ! 

"  When  I  looked  back  to  behold  him, 
Where  we  parted,  to  behold  him, 
After  me  he  still  was  gazing, 
O  my  sweetheart,  my  Algonquin  ! 

"  By  the  tree  he  still  was  standing, 
By  the  fallen  tree  was  standing, 
That  had  dropped  into  the  water, 
O  my  sweetheart,  my  Algonquin  ! 

"  When  I  think  of  my  beloved, 
Ah  me !  think  of  my  beloved, 
When  my  heart  is  thinking  of  him, 
O  my  sweetheart,  my  Algonquin  ! " 

Such  was  Hiawatha's  Wedding, 
Such  the  dance  of  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
Such  the  story  of  lagoo, 
Such  the  songs  of  Chibiabos  ; 
Thus  the  wedding  banquet  ended. 


And  the  wedding  guests  departed, 
Leaving  Hiawatha  happy 
With  the  night  and  Minnehaha. 



SING,  O  Song  of  Hiawatha, 

Of  the  happy  days  that  followed, 

In  the  land  of  the  Ojibways, 

In  the  pleasant  land  and  peaceful ! 

Sing  the  mysteries  of  Mondamin, 

Sing  the  Blessing  of  the  Corn-fields  ! 

Buried  was  the  bloody  hatchet, 
Buried  was  the  dreadful  war-club, 
Buried  were  all  warlike  weapons, 
And  the  war-cry  was  forgotten. 
There  was  peace  among  the  nations  ; 
Unmolested  roved  the  hunters, 


Built  the  birch-canoe  for  sailing, 
Caught  the  fish  in  lake  and  river, 
Shot  the  deer  and  trapped  the  beaver ; 
Unmolested  worked  the  women, 
Made  their  sugar  from  the  maple, 
Gathered  wild  rice  in  the  meadows, 
Dressed  the  skins  of  deer  and  beaver. 

All  around  the  happy  village 
Stood  the  maize-fields,  green  and  shining, 
Waved  the  green  plumes  of  Mondamin, 
Waved  his  soft  and  sunny  tresses, 
Filling  all  the  land  with  plenty, 
'T  was  the  women  who  in  Spring-time 
Planted  the  broad  fields  and  fruitful, 
Buried  in  the  earth  Mondamin  ; 
'T  was  the  women  who  in  Autumn 
Stripped  the  yellow  husks  of  harvest, 
Stripped  the  garments  from  Mondamin, 
Even  as  Hiawatha  taught  them. 

Once,  when  all  the  maize  was  planted, 


Hiawatha,  wise  and  thoughtful, 
Spake  and  said  to  Minnehaha, 
To  his  wife,  the  Laughing  Water : 
"  You  shall  bless  to-night  the  corn-fields, 
Draw  a  magic  circle  round  them, 
To  protect  them  from  destruction, 
Blast  of  mildew,  blight  of  insect, 
Wagemin,  the  thief  of  corn-fields, 
Paimosaid,  who  steals  the  maize-ear ! 
"  In  the  night,  when  all  is  silence, 
In  the  night,  when  all  is  darkness, 
When  the  Spirit  of  Sleep,  Nepahinin, 
Shuts  the  doors  of  all  the  wigwams, 
So  that  not  an  ear  can  hear  you, 
So  that  not  an  eye  can  see  you, 
Rise  up  from  your  bed  in  silence, 
Lay  aside  your  garments  wholly, 
Walk  around  the  fields  you  planted, 
Round  the  borders  of  the  corn-fields, 
Covered  by  your  tresses  only, 


Robed  with  darkness  as  a  garment. 

"  Thus  the  fields  shall  be  more  fruitful, 
And  the  passing  of  your  footsteps 
Draw  a  magic  circle  round  them, 
So  that  neither  blight  nor  mildew, 
Neither  burrowing  worm  nor  insect, 
Shall  pass  o'er  the  magic  circle ; 
Not  the  dragon-fly,  Kwo-ne-she, 
Nor  the  spider,  Subbekashe, 
Nor  the  grasshopper,  Pau-puk-keena, 
Nor  the  mighty  caterpillar, 
Way-muk-kwana,  with  the  bear-skin, 
King  of  all  the  caterpillars  ! " 

On  the  tree-tops  near  the  corn-fields 
Sat  the  hungry  crows  and  ravens, 
Kahgahgee,  the  King  of  Ravens, 
With  his  band  of  black  marauders. 
And  they  laughed  at  Hiawatha, 
Till  the  tree-tops  shook  with  laughter, 
With  their  melancholy  laughter 


At  the  words  of  Hiawatha. 

"  Hear  him  ! "  said  they ;  "  hear  the  wise  man ! 

Hear  the  plots  of  Hiawatha!" 

When  the  noiseless  night  descended 
Broad  and  dark  o'er  field  and  forest, 
When  the  mournful  Wawonaissa, 
Sorrowing  sang  among  the  hemlocks, 
And  the  Spirit  of  Sleep,  Nepahwin, 
Shut  the  doors  of  all  the  wigwams, 
From  her  bed  rose  Laughing  Water, 
Laid  aside  her  garments  wholly, 
And  with  darkness  clothed  and  guarded, 
Unashamed  and  unaffrighted, 
Walked  securely  round  the  corn-fields, 
Drew  the  sacred,  magic  circle 
Of  her  footprints  round  the  corn-fields. 

No  one  but  the  Midnight  only 
Saw  her  beauty  in  the  darkness, 
No  one  but  the  Wawonaissa 
Heard  the  panting  of  her  bosom  ; 


Guskewau,  the  darkness,  wrapped  her 

Closely  in  his  sacred  mantle, 

So  that  none  might  see  her  beauty, 

So  that  none  might  boast,  "  I  saw  her  ! " 

On  the  morrow,  as  the  day  dawned, 
Kahgahgee,  the  King  of  Ravens, 
Gathered  all  his  black  marauders, 
Crows  and  black-birds,  jays  and  ravens, 
Clamorous  on  the  dusky  tree-tops, 
And  descended,  fast  and  fearless, 
On  the  fields  of  Hiawatha, 
On  the  grave  of  the  Mondamin. 

"  We  will  drag  Mondamin,"  said  they, 
"  From  the  grave  where  he  is  buried, 
Spite  of  all  the  magic  circles 
Laughing  Water  draws  around  it, 
Spite  of  all  the  sacred  footprints 
Minnehaha  stamps  upon  it ! " 

But  the  wary  Hiawatha, 
Ever  thoughtful,  careful,  watchful, 


Had  o'erheard  the  scornful  laughter 
When  they  mocked  him  from  the  tree-tops. 
"  Kaw  ! "  he  said,  "  my  friends  the  ravens ! 
Kahgahgee,  my  King  of  Ravens ! 
I  will  teach  you  all  a  lesson 
That  shall  not  be  soon  forgotten  ! " 

He  had  risen  before  the  daybreak, 
He  had  spread  o'er  all  the  corn-fields 
Snares  to  catch  the  black  marauders, 
And  was  lying  now  in  ambush 
In  the  neighbouring  grove  of  pine-trees, 
Waiting  for  the  crows  and  blackbirds, 
Waiting  for  the  jays  and  ravens. 

Soon  they  came  with  caw  and  clamour, 
Rush  of  wings  and  cry  of  voices, 
To  their  work  of  devastation, 
Settling  down  upon  the  corn-fields, 
Delving  deep  with  beak  and  talon, 
For  the  body  of  Mondamin. 
And  with  all  their  craft  and  cunning, 


All  their  skill  in  wiles  of  warfare, 
They  perceived  no  danger  near  them, 
Till  their  claws  became  entangled, 
Till  they  found  themselves  imprisoned 
In  the  snares  of  Hiawatha. 

From  his  place  of  ambush  came  he, 
Striding  terrible  among  them, 
And  so  awful  was  his  aspect 
That  the  bravest  quailed  with  terror. 
Without  mercy  he  destroyed  them 
Right  and  left,  by  tens  and  twenties, 
And  their  wretched,  lifeless  bodies 
Hung  aloft  on  poles  for  scarecrows 
Round  the  consecrated  corn-fields, 
As  a  signal  of  his  vengeance, 
As  a  warning  to  marauders. 

Only  Kahgahgee,  the  leader, 
Kahgahgee,  the  King  of  Ravens, 
He  alone  was  spared  among  them 
As  a  hostage  for  his  people. 


With  his  prisoner-string  he  bound  him, 
Led  him  captive  to  his  wigwam, 
Tied  him  fast  with  cords  of  elm-bark 
To  the  ridge-pole  of  his  wigwam. 

6 e  Kahgahgee,  my  raven ! "  said  he, 
"  You  the  leader  of  the  robbers, 
You  the  plotter  of  this  mischief, 
The  contriver  of  this  outrage, 
I  will  keep  you,  I  will  hold  you, 
As  a  hostage  for  your  people, 
As  a  pledge  of  good  behaviour  ! " 

And  he  left  him,  grim  and  sulky, 
Sitting  in  the  morning  sunshine 
On  the  summit  of  the  wigwam, 
Croaking  fiercely  his  displeasure, 
Flapping  his  great  sable  pinions, 
Vainly  struggling  for  his  freedom, 
Vainly  calling  on  his  people ! 

Summer  passed,  and  Shawondasee 
Breathed  his  sighs  o'er  all  the  landscape, 


From  the  South-land  sent  his  ardours, 
Wafted  kisses  warm  and  tender ; 
And  the  maize-field  grew  and  ripened. 
Till  it  stood  in  all  the  splendour 
Of  its  garments  green  and  yellow, 
Of  its  tassels  and  its  plumage, 
And  the  maize-ears  full  and  shining 
Gleamed  from  bursting  sheaths  of  verdure. 

Then  Nokomis,  the  old  woman, 
Spake,  and  said  to  Minnehaha : 
"  'T  is  the  Moon  when  leaves  are  falling ; 
All  the  wild-rice  has  been  gathered, 
And  the  maize  is  ripe  and  ready ; 
Let  us  gather  in  the  harvest, 
Let  us  wrestle  with  Mondamin, 
Strip  him  of  his  plumes  and  tassels, 
Of  his  garments  green  and  yellow  I " 

And  the  merry  Laughing  Water 
Went  rejoicing  from  the  wigwam, 
With  Nokomis,  old  and  wrinkled, 


And  they  called  the  women  round  them. 
Called  the  young  men  and  the  maidens, 
To  the  harvest  of  the  corn-fields, 
To  the  husking  of  the  maize-ear. 

On  the  border  of  the  forest, 
Underneath  the  fragrant  pine-trees, 
Sat  the  old  men  and  the  warriors 
Smoking  in  the  pleasant  shadow. 
In  uninterrupted  silence 
Looked  they  at  the  gamesome  labour 
Of  the  young  men  and  the  women ; 
Listened  to  their  noisy  talking, 
To  their  laughter  and  their  singing, 
Heard  them  chattering  like  the  magpies, 
Heard  them  laughing  like  the  blue-jays, 
Heard  them  singing  like  the  robins. 

And  whene'er  some  lucky  maiden 
Found  a  red  ear  in  the  husking, 
Found  a  maize-ear  red  as  blood  is, 
"  Noska!"  cried  they  all  together, 


"  Noska !  you  shall  have  a  sweetheart, 
You  shall  have  a  handsome  husband ! " 
"  Ugh !"  the  old  men  all  responded 
From  their  seats  beneath  the  pine-treqs. 

And  whene'er  a  youth  or  maiden 
Found  a  crooked  ear  in  husking, 
Found  a  maize-ear  in  the  husking 
Blighted,  mildewed,  or  misshapen, 
Then  they  laughed  and  sang  together, 
Crept  and  limped  about  the  corn-fields, 
Mimicked  in  their  gait  and  gestures 
Some  old  man,  bent  almost  double, 
Singing  singly  or  together : 
"  Wagemin,  the  thief  of  corn-fields ! 
Paimosaid,  the  skulking  robber ! " 

Till  the  corn-fields  rang  with  laughter, 
Till  from  Hiawatha's  wigwam 
Kahgahgee,  the  King  of  Ravens, 
Screamed  and  quivered  in  his  anger, 
And  from  all  the  neighbouring  tree-tops 


Cawed  and  croaked  the  black  marauders. 
"  Ugh ! "  the  old  men  all  responded, 
From  their  seats  beneath  the  pine-trees ! 



IN  those  days  said  Hiawatha, 

"  Lo !  how  all  things  fade  and  perish ! 

From  the  memory  of  the  old  men 

Fade  away  the  great  traditions, 

The  achievements  of  the  warriors, 

The  adventures  of  the  hunters, 

All  the  wisdom  of  the  Medas, 

All  the  craft  of  the  Wabenos, 

All  the  marvellous  dreams  and  visions 

Of  the  Jossakeeds,  the  Prophets  ! 

"  Great  men  die  and  are  forgotten, 
Wise  men  speak ;  their  words  of  wisdom 


Perish  in  the  ears  that  hear  them, 
Do  not  reach  the  generations 
That,  as  yet  unborn,  are  waiting 
In  the  great,  mysterious  darkness 
Of  the  speechless  days  that  shall  be ! 

"  On  the  grave-posts  of  our  fathers 
Are  no  signs,  no  figures  painted ; 
Who  are  in  those  graves  we  know  not, 
Only  know  they  are  our  fathers. 
Of  what  kith  they  are  and  kindred, 
From  what  old,  ancestral  Totem, 
Be  it  Eagle,  Bear,  or  Beaver, 
They  descended,  this  we  know  not, 
Only  know  they  are  our  fathers. 

"  Face  to  face  we  speak  together, 
But  we  cannot  speak  when  absent, 
Cannot  send  our  voices  from  us 
To  the  friends  that  dwell  afar  off; 
Cannot  send  a  secret  message, 
But  the  bearer  learns  our  secret, 


May  pervert Jt,  may  betray  it, 
May  reveal  it  unto  others." 

Thus  said  Hiawatha,  walking 
In  the  solitary  forest, 
Pondering,  musing  in  the  forest, 
On  the  welfare  of  his  people. 

From  his  pouch  he  took  his  colours, 
Took  his  paints  of  different  colours, 
On  the  smooth  bark  of  a  birch-tree 
Painted  many  shapes  and  figures, 
Wonderful  and  mystic  figures, 
And  each  figure  had  a  meaning, 
Each  some  word  or  thought  suggested. 

Gitche  Manito  the  Mighty, 
He,  the  Master  of  Life,  was  painted 
As  an  egg,  with  points  projecting 
To  the  four  winds  of  the  heavens. 
Everywhere  is  the  Great  Spirit, 
Was  the  meaning  of  this  symbol. 

Mitche  Manito  the  Mighty, 


He  the  dreadful  Spirit  of  Evil, 
As  a  serpent  was  depicted, 
As  Kenabeek,  the  great  serpent. 
Very  crafty,  very  cunning, 
Is  the  creeping  Spirit  of  Evil, 
Was  the  meaning  of  this  symbol. 

Life  and  Death  he  drew  as  circles, 
Life  was  white,  but  Death  was  darkened ; 
Sun  and  moon  and  stars  he  painted, 
Man  and  beast,  and  fish  and  reptile, 
Forests,  mountains,  lakes,  and  rivers. 

For  the  earth  he  drew  a  straight  line, 
For  the  sky  a  bow  above  it ; 
White  the  space  between  for  day-time, 
Filled  with  little  stars  for  night-time ; 
On  the  left  a  point  for  sunrise, 
On  the  right  a  point  for  sunset, 
On  the  top  a  point  for  noon-tide, 
And  for  rain  and  cloudy  weather 
Waving  lines  descending  from  it. 


Footprints  pointing  towards  a  wigwam 
Were  a  sign  of  invitation, 
Were  a  sign  of  guests  assembling ; 
Bloody  hands  with  palms  uplifted 
Were  a  symbol  of  destruction, 
Were  a  hostile  sign  and  symbol. 

All  these  things  did  Hiawatha 
Show  unto  his  wondering  people, 
And  interpreted  their  meaning, 
And  he  said :  "  Behold,  your  grave-posts 
Have  no  mark,  no  sign,  nor  symbol. 
Go  and  paint  them  all  with  figures ; 
Each  one  with  its  household  symbol, 
With  its  own  ancestral  Totem  ; 
So  that  those  who  follow  after 
May  distinguish  them  and  know  them." 

And  they  painted  on  the  grave-posts 
Of  the  graves  yet  unforgotten, 
Each  his  own  ancestral  Totem, 
Each  the  symbol  of  his  household ; 


Figures  of  the  Bear  and  Reindeer, 
Of  the  Turtle,  Crane,  and  Beaver, 
Each  inverted  as  a  token 
That  the  owner  was  departed, 
That  the  chief  who  hore  the  symbol 
Lay  beneath  in  dust  and  ashes. 

And  the  Jossakeeds,  the  Prophets, 
The  Wabenos,  the  Magicians, 
And  the  Medicine-men,  the  Medas, 
Painted  upon  bark  and  deer-skin 
Figures  for  the  songs  they  chanted, 
For  each  song  a  separate  symbol, 
Figures  mystical  and  awful, 
Figures  strange  and  brightly  coloured ; 
And  each  figure  had  its  meaning, 
Each  some  magic  song  suggested. 

The  Great  Spirit,  the  Creator, 
Flashing  light  through  all  the  heaven ; 
The  Great  Serpent,  the  Kenabeek, 
With  his  bloody  crest  erected, 



Creeping,  looking  into  heaven ; 
In  the  sky  the  sun,  that  listens, 
And  the  moon  eclipsed  and  dying  : 
Owl  and  eagle,  crane  and  hen-hawk, 
And  the  cormorant,  bird  of  magic ; 
Headless  men,  that  walk  the  heavens, 
Bodies  lying  pierced  with  arrows, 
Bloody  hands  of  death  uplifted, 
Flags  on  graves,  and  great  war- captains 
Grasping  both  the  earth  and  heaven ! 

Such  as  these  the  shapes  they  painted 
On  the  birch-bark  and  the  deer-skin ; 
Songs  of  war  and  songs  of  hunting, 
Songs  of  medicine  and  of  magic, 
All  were  written  in  these  figures, 
For  each  figure  had  its  meaning, 
Each  its  separate  song  recorded. 

Nor  forgotten  was  the  Love-Song, 
The  most  subtle  of  all  medicines, 
The  most  potent  spell  of  magic, 


Dangerous  more  than  war  or  hunting! 
Thus  the  Love-Song  was  recorded, 
Symbol  and  interpretation. 

First  a  human  figure  standing, 
Painted  in  the  brightest  scarlet ; 
'T  is  the  lover,  the  musician, 
And  the  meaning  is,  "  My  painting 
Makes  me  powerful  over  others." 

Then  the  figure  seated,  singing, 
Playing  on  a  drum  of  magic, 
,And  the  interpretation,  "  Listen  ! 
'T  is  my  voice  you  hear,  my  singing ! " 

Then  the  same  red  figure  seated 
In  the  shelter  of  a  wigwam, 
And  the  meaning  of  the  symbol, 
"  I  will  come  and  sit  beside  you 
In  the  mystery  of  my  passion ! " 

Then  two  figures,  man  and  woman, 
Standing  hand  in  hand  together, 
With  their  hands  so  clasped  together 


That  they  seem  in  one  united, 
And  the  words  thus  represented 
Are,  "  I  see  your  heart  within  you, 
And  your  cheeks  are  red  with  blushes  ! " 

Next  the  maiden  on  an  island, 
In  the  centre  of  an  island ; 
And  the  song  this  shape  suggested 
Was,  "  Though  you  were  at  a  distance, 
Were  upon  some  far-off  island, 
Such  the  spell  I  cast  upon  you, 
Such  the  magic  power  of  passion, 
I  could  straightway  draw  you  to  me ! " 

Then  the  figure  of  the  maiden 
Sleeping,  and  the  lover  near  her, 
Whispering  to  her  in  her  slumbers, 
Saying,  "  Though  you  were  far  from  me 
In  the  land  of  Sleep  and  Silence, 
Still  the  voice  of  love  would  reach  you ! " 

And  the  last  of  all  the  figures 
Was  a  heart  within  a  circle, 


Drawn  within  a  magic  circle ; 
And  the  image  had  this  meaning : 
"  Naked  lies  your  heart  before  me, 
To  your  naked  heart  I  whisper ! " 

Thus  it  was  that  Hiawatha, 
In  his  wisdom,  taught  the  people 
All  the  mysteries  of  painting, 
All  the  art  of  Picture- Writing, 
On  the  smooth  bark  of  the  birch-tree, 
On  the  white  skin  of  the  reindeer, 
On  the  grave-posts  of  the  village. 



IN  those  days  the  Evil  Spirits, 
All  the  Manitos  of  mischief, 
Fearing  Hiawatha's  wisdom, 
And  his  love  for  Chibiabos, 
Jealous  of  their  faithful  friendship. 
And  their  noble  words  and  actions, 
Made  at  length  a  league  against  them. 
To  molest  them  and  destroy  them. 

Hiawatha,  wise  and  wary, 
Often  said  to  Chibiabos, 
"  O  my  brother !  do  not  leave  me, 
Lest  the  Evil  Spirits  harm  you ! " 


Chibiabos,  young  and  heedless, 
Laughing  shook  his  coal-black  tresses, 
Answered  ever  sweet  and  childlike, 
"  Do  not  fear  for  me,  O  brother ! 
Harm  and  evil  come  not  near  me ! " 

Once  when  Peboan,  the  Winter, 
Roofed  with  ice  the  Big-Sea-Water, 
When  the  snow-flakes,  whirling  downward, 
Hissed  among  the  withered  oak-leaves, 
Changed  the  pine-trees  into  wigwams, 
Covered  all  the  earth  with  silence, 
Armed  with  arrows,  shod  with  snow-shoes, 
Heeding  not  his  brother's  warning, 
Fearing  not  the  Evil  Spirits, 
Forth  to  hunt  the  deer  with  antlers 
All  alone  went  Chibiabos. 

Right  across  the  Big-Sea-Water 
Sprang  with  speed  the  deer  before  him. 
With  the  wind  and  snow  he  followed, 
O'er  the  treacherous  ice  he  followed, 


Wild  with  all  the  fierce  commotion 
And  the  rapture  of  the  hunting. 

But  beneath,  the  Evil  Spirits 
Lay  in  ambush,  waiting  for  him, 
Broke  the  treacherous  ice  beneath  him, 
Dragged  him  downward  to  the  bottom, 
Buried  in  the  sand  his  body. 
Unktahee,  the  god  of  water, 
He  the  god  of  the  Dacotahs, 
Drowned  him  in  the  deep  abysses 
Of  the  lake  of  Gitche  Gumee. 

From  the  headlands  Hiawatha 
Sent  forth  such  a  wail  of  anguish, 
Such  a  fearful  lamentation, 
That  the  bison  paused  to  listen, 
And  the  wolves  howled  from  the  prairies, 
And  the  thunder  in  the  distance 
Woke  and  answered  "Baim-wawaf" 

Then  his  face  with  black  he  painted, 
With  his  robe  his  head  he  covered, 


In  his  wigwam  sat  lamenting, 
Seven  long  weeks  he  sat  lamenting, 
Uttering  still  his  moan  of  sorrow : 

"  He  is  dead,  the  sweet  musician ! 
He  the  sweetest  of  all  singers ! 
He  has  gone  from  us  for  ever, 
He  has  moved  a  little  nearer 
To  the  Master  of  all  music, 
To  the  Master  of  all  singing ! 
O  my  brother,  Chibiabos !" 

And  the  melancholy  fir-trees 
Waved  their  dark  green  fans  above  him, 
Waved  their  purple  cones  above  him, 
Sighing  with  him  to  console  him, 
Mingling  with  his  lamentation 
Their  complaining,  their  lamenting. 

Came  the  Spring,  and  all  the  forest 
Looked  in  vain  for  Chibiabos ; 
Sighed  the  rivulet,  Sebowisha, 
Sighed  the  rushes  in  the  meadow. 


From  the  tree-tops  sang  the  blue-bird, 
Sang  the  blue-bird,  the  Owaissa, 
«  Chibiabos  I  Chibiabos ! 
He  is  dead,  the  sweet  musician  I " 

From  the  wigwam  sang  the  robin, 
Sang  the  Opechee,  the  robin, 
"Chibiabos!  Chibiabos! 
He  is  dead,  the  sweetest  singer ! '' 

And  at  night  through  all  the  forest 
Went  the  whippoorwill  complaining, 
Wailing  went  the  Wawonaissa, 
"  Chibiabos !  Chibiabos  I 
He  is  dead,  the  sweet  musician ! 
He  the  sweetest  of  all  singers !" 

Then  the  medicine-men,  the  Medas, 
The  magicians,  the  Wabenos, 
And  the  Jossakeeds,  the  prophets, 
Came  to  visit  Hiawatha; 
Built  a  Sacred  Lodge  beside  him, 
To  appease  him,  to  console  him, 


Walked  in  silent,  grave  procession, 
Bearing  each  a  pouch  of  healing, 
Skin  of  beaver,  lynx,  or  otter, 
Filled  with  magic  roots  and  simples, 
Filled  with  very  potent  medicines. 

When  he  heard  their  steps  approaching, 
Hiawatha  ceased  lamenting, 
Called  no  more  on  Chibiabos ; 
Naught  he  questioned,  naught  he  answered, 
But  his  mournful  head  uncovered, 
From  his  face  the  mourning  colours 
Washed  he  slowly  and  in  silence, 
Slowly  and  in  silence  followed 
Onward  to  the  Sacred  Wigwam. 

There  a  magic  drink  they  gave  him, 
Made  of  Nahma-wusk,  the  spearmint, 
And  Wabeno-wusk,  the  yarrow, 
Roots  of  power,  and  herbs  of  healing ; 
Beat  their  drums,  and  shook  their  rattles ; 
Chanted  singly  and  in  chorus, 


Mystic  songs  like  these,  they  chanted. 

"  I  myself,  myself!  behold  me ! 
'T  is  the  great  Gray  Eagle  talking ; 
Come,  ye  white  crows,  come  and  hear  him ! 
The  loud-speaking  thunder  helps  me ; 
All  the  unseen  spirits  help  me ; 
I  can  hear  their  voices  calling, 
All  around  the  sky  I  hear  them ! 
I  can  blow  you  strong,  my  brother, 
I  can  heal  you,  Hiawatha ! " 

"  Hi-au-ha ! "  replied  the  chorus, 
"  Way-ha-way ! "  the  mystic  chorus. 

"  Friends  of  mine  are  all  the  serpents, 
Hear  me  shake  my  skin  of  hen-hawk ! 
Mahng,  the  white  loon,  I  can  kill  him ; 
I  can  shoot  your  heart  and  kill  it ! 
I  can  blow  you  strong,  my  brother, 
I  can  heal  you,  Hiawatha ! " 

"  Hi-au-ha ! "  replied  the  chorus, 
"  Way-ha-way ! "  the  mystic  chorus. 


"  I  myself,  myself!  the  prophet! 
When  I  speak  the  wigwam  trembles, 
Shakes  the  Sacred  Lodge  with  terror, 
Hands  unseen  begin  to  shake  it ! 
When  I  walk,  the  sky  I  tread  on 
Bends  and  makes  a  noise  beneath  me ! 
I  can  blow  you  strong,  my  brother ! 
Rise  and  speak,  O  Hiawatha ! " 

e f  Hi-au-ha ! "  replied  the  chorus, 
"  Way-ha-way ! "  the  mystic  chorus. 

Then  they  shook  their  medicine-pouches 
O'er  the  head  of  Hiawatha, 
Danced  their  medicine-dance  around  him ; 
And  upstarting  wild  and  haggard, 
Like  a  man  from  dreams  awakened, 
He  was  healed  of  all  his  madness. 
As  the  clouds  are  swept  from  heaven, 
.  Straightway  from  his  brain  departed 
All  his  moody  melancholy ; 
As  the  ice  is  swept  from  rivers, 


Straightway  from  his  heart  departed 
All  his  sorrow  and  affliction. 

Then  they  summoned  Chibiabos 
From  his  grave  beneath  the  waters, 
From  the  sands  of  Gitche  Gumee 
Summoned  Hiawatha's  brother. 
And  so  mighty  was  the  magic 
Of  that  cry  and  invocation, 
That  he  heard  it  as  he  lay  there 
Underneath  the  Big-Sea-Water ; 
From  the  sand  he  rose  and  listened, 
Heard  the  music  and  the  singing, 
Came,  obedient  to  the  summons, 
To  the  doorway  of  the  wigwam, 
But  to  enter  they  forbade  him. 

Through  a  chink  a  coal  they  gave  him, 
Through  the  door  a  burning  fire-brand ; 
Ruler  in  the  Land  of  Spirits, 
Ruler  o'er  the  dead,  they  made  him, 
Telling  him  a  fire  to  kindle 


For  all  those  that  died  thereafter. 
Camp-fires  for  their  night  encampments 
On  their  solitary  journey 
To  the  kingdom  of  Ponemah, 
To  the  land  of  the  Hereafter. 

From  the  village  of  his  childhood, 
From  the  homes  of  those  who  knew  him, 
Passing  silent  through  the  forest, 
Like  a  smoke-wreath  wafted  sideways, 
Slowly  vanished  Chibiabos ! 
Where  he  passed,  the  branches  moved  not, 
Where  he  trod,  the  grasses  bent  not, 
And  the  fallen  leaves  of  last  year 
Made  no  sound  beneath  his  footsteps. 

Four  whole  days  he  journeyed  onward 
Down  the  pathway  of  the  dead  men ; 
On  the  dead-man's  strawberry  feasted, 
Crossed  the  melancholy  river, 
On  the  swinging  log  he  crossed  it, 
Came  unto  the  Lake  of  Silver, 


In  the  Stone  Canoe  was  carried 

To  the  Islands  of  the  Blessed, 

To  the  land  of  ghosts  and  shadows. 

On  that  journey,  moving  slowly, 
Many  weary  spirits  saw  he, 
Panting  under  heavy  burdens, 
Laden  with  war-clubs,  bows  and  arrows, 
Robes  of  fur,  and  pots  and  kettles, 
And  with  food  that  friends  had  given 
For  that  solitary  journey. 

"  Ah  !  why  do  the  living,"  said  they, 
"  Lay  such  heavy  burdens  on  us  ! 
Better  were  it  to  go  naked, 
Better  were  it  to  go  fasting, 
Than  to  bear  such  heavy  burdens 
On  our  long  and  weary  journey  ! " 

Forth  then  issued  Hiawatha, 
Wandered  eastward,  wandered  westward, 
Teaching  men  the  use  of  simples 
And  the  antidotes  for  poisons, 


And  the  cure  of  all  diseases. 

Thus  was  first  made  known  to  mortals 

All  the  mystery  of  Medamin, 

All  the  sacred  art  of  healing. 



You  shall  hear  how  Pau-Puk-Keewis 
He,  the  handsome  Yenadizze, 
Whom  the  people  called  the  Storm-Fool, 
Vexed  the  village  with  disturbance ; 
You  shall  hear  of  all  his  mischief, 
And  his  flight  from  Hiawatha, 
And  his  wondrous  transmigrations, 
And  the  end  of  his  adventures. 

On  the  shores  of  Gitche  Gumee, 
On  the  dunes  of  Nagow  Wudjoo, 
By  the  shining  Big-Sea-Water 
Stood  the  lodge  of  Pau-Puk-Keewis. 


It  was  he  who  in  his  frenzy 

Whirled  these  drifting  sands  together, 

On  the  dunes  of  Nagow  Wudjoo, 

When,  among  the  guests  assembled, 

He  so  merrily  and  madly 

Danced  at  Hiawatha's  wedding, 

Danced  the  Beggar's  Dance  to  please  them. 

Now,  in  search  of  new  adventures, 
From  his  lodge  went  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
Came  with  speed  into  the  village, 
Found  the  young  men  all  assembled 
In  the  lodge  of  old  lagoo, 
Listening  to  his  monstrous  stories, 
To  his  wonderful  adventures. 

He  was  telling  them  the  story 
Of  Ojeeg,  the  Summer-Maker, 
How  he  made  a  hole  in  heaven, 
How  he  climbed  up  into  heaven, 
And  let  out  the  Summer- weather, 
The  perpetual,  pleasant  Summer ; 


How  the  Otter  first  essayed  it ; 
How  the  Beaver,  Lynx,  and  Badger, 
Tried  in  turn  the  great  achievement, 
From  the  summit  of  the  mountain 
Smote  their  fists  against  the  heavens, 
Smote  against  the  sky  their  foreheads, 
Cracked  the  sky,  but  could  not  break  it ; 
How  the  Wolverine,  uprising, 
Made  him  ready  for  the  encounter, 
Bent  his  knees  down,  like  a  squirrel, 
Drew  his  arms  back,  like  a  cricket. 

"  Once  he  leaped,"  said  old  lagoo, 
"  Once  he  leaped,  and  lo !  above  him 
Bent  the  sky,  as  ice  in  rivers 
When  the  waters  rise  beneath  it ; 
Twice  he  leaped,  and  lo !  above  him 
Cracked  the  sky,  as  ice  in  rivers 
When  the  freshet  is  at  highest ! 
Thrice  he  leaped,  and  lo !  above  him 
Broke  the  shattered  sky  asunder, 


And  he  disappeared  within  it, 
And  Ojeeg,  the  Fisher  Weasel, 
With  a  bound  went  in  behind  him ! " 

"  Hark  you!"  shouted  Pau-Puk-Keewis 
As  he  entered  at  the  doorway ; 
(e  I  am  tired  of  all  this  talking, 
Tired  of  old  lagoo's  stories, 
Tired  of  Hiawatha's  wisdom. 
Here  is  something  to  amuse  you, 
Better  than  this  endless  talking." 

Then  from  out  his  pouch  of  wolf-skin 
Forth  he  drew,  with  solemn  manner, 
All  the  game  of  Bowl  and  Counters, 
Pugasaing,  with  thirteen  pieces. 
White  on  one  side  were  they  painted, 
And  vermilion  on  the  other ; 
Two  Kenabeeks  or  great  serpents, 
Two  Ininewug  or  wedge-men, 
One  great  war-club,  Pugamaugun, 
And  one  slender  fish,  the  Keego, 


Four  round  pieces,  Ozawabeeks, 
And  three  Sheshebwug  or  ducklings. 
All  were  made  of  bone  and  painted, 
All  except  the  Ozawabeeks ; 
These  were  brass,  on  one  side  burnished, 
And  were  black  upon  the  other. 

In  a  wooden  bowl  he  placed  them, 
Shook  and  jostled  them  together, 
Threw  them  on  the  ground  before  him, 
Thus  exclaiming  and  explaining : 
"  Red  side  up  are  all  the  pieces, 
And  one  great  Keriabeek  standing 
On  the  bright  side  of  a  brass  piece, 
On  a  burnished  Ozawabeek ; 
Thirteen  tens  and  eight  are  counted." 

Then  again  he  shook  the  pieces, 
Shook  and  jostled  them  together, 
Threw  them  on  the  ground  before  him, 
Still  exclaiming  and  explaining: 
"  White  are  both  the  great  Kenabeeks, 


White  the  Ininewug,  the  wedge-men, 

Red  are  all  the  other  pieces ; 

Five  tens  and  an  eight  are  counted." 

Thus  he  taught  the  game  of  hazard, 
Thus  displayed  it  and  explained  it, 
Running  through  its  various  chances, 
Various  changes,  various  meanings : 
Twenty  curious  eyes  stared  at  him, 
Full  of  eagerness  stared  at  him. 

((  Many  games,"  said  old  lagoo, 
"  Many  games  of  skill  and  hazard 
Have  I  seen  in  different  nations, 
Have  I  played  in  different  countries. 
He  who  plays  with  old  lagoo 
Must  have  very  nimble  fingers ; 
Though  you  think  yourself  so  skilful, 
I  can  beat  you,  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
I  can  even  give  you  lessons 
In  your  game  of  Bowl  and  Counters  I" 

So  they  sat  and  played  together, 


All  the  old  men  and  the  young  men, 
Played  for  dresses,  weapons,  wampum, 
Played  till  midnight,  played  till  morning, 
Played  until  the  Yenadizze, 
Till  the  cunning  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
Of  their  treasures  had  despoiled  them, 
Of  the  best  of  all  their  dresses, 
Shirts  of  deer-skin,  robes  of  ermine, 
Belts  of  wampum,  crests  of  feathers, 
Warlike  weapons,  pipes  and  pouches. 
Twenty  eyes  glared  wildly  at  him, 
Like  the  eyes  of  wolves  glared  at  him. 

Said  the  lucky  Pau-Puk-Keewis : 
"  In  my  wigwam  I  am  lonely, 
In  my  wanderings  and  adventures 
I  have  need  of  a  companion, 
Fain  would  have  a  Meshinauwa, 
An  attendant  and  pipe-bearer. 
I  will  venture  all  these  winnings, 
All  these  garments  heaped  about  me, 


All  this  wampum,  all  these  feathers, 
On  a  single  throw  will  venture 
All  against  the  young  man  yonder  ! " 
'Twas  a  youth  of  sixteen  summers, 
'T  was  a  nephew  of  lagoo ; 
Face-in-a-Mist,  the  people  called  him. 

As  the  fire  burns  in  a  pipe-head 
Dusky  red  beneath  the  ashes, 
So  beneath  his  shaggy  eyebrows 
Glowed  the  eyes  of  old  lagoo. 
"  Ugh !"  he  answered  very  fiercely; 
"  Ugh ! "  they  answered  all  and  each  one. 

Seized  the  wooden  bowl  the  old  man, 
Closely  in  his  bony  fingers 
Clutched  the  fatal  bowl,  Onagon, 
Shook  it  fiercely  and  with  fury, 
Made  the  pieces  ring  together 
As  he  threw  them  down  before  him. 

Red  were  both  the  great  Kenabeeks, 
Red  the  Ininewug,  the  wedge-men, 


Red  the  Sheshebwug,  the  ducklings, 
Black  the  four  brass  Ozawabeeks, 
White  alone  the  fish,  the  Keego ; 
Only  five  the  pieces  counted  ! 

Then  the  smiling  Pau-Puk-Keewis 
Shook  the  bowl  and  threw  the  pieces ; 
Lightly  in  the  air  he  tossed  them, 
And  they  fell  about  him  scattered  ; 
Dark  and  bright  the  Ozawabeeks, 
Red  and  white  the  other  pieces, 
And  upright  among  the  others 
One  Ininewug  was  standing, 
Even  as  crafty  Pau-Puk-Keewis 
Stood  alone  among  the  players, 
Saying,  "  Five  tens !  mine  the  game  is ! " 

Twenty  eyes  glared  at  him  fiercely, 
Like  the  eyes  of  wolves  glared  at  him, 
As  he  turned  and  left  the  wigwam, 
Followed  by  his  Meshinauwa, 
By  the  nephew  of  lagoo, 


By  the  tall  and  graceful  stripling, 
Bearing  in  his  arms  the  winnings, 
Shirts  of  deer-skin,  robes  of  ermine, 
Belts  of  wampum,  pipes  and  weapons. 

"  Carry  them,"  said  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
Pointing  with  his  fan  of  feathers, 
"  To  my  wigwam  far  to  eastward, 
On  the  dunes  of  Nagow  Wudjoo  !" 

Hot  and  red  with  smoke  and  gambling 
Were  the  eyes  of  Pau-Puk-Keewis 
As  he  came  forth  to  the  freshness 
Of  the  pleasant  summer  morning. 
All  the  birds  were  singing  gayly, 
All  the  streamlets  flowing  swiftly, 
And  the  heart  of  Pau-Puk-Keewis 
Sang  with  pleasure  as  the  birds  sing, 
Beat  with  triumph  like  the  streamlets, 
As  he  wandered  through  the  village. 
In  the  early  gray  of  morning, 
With  his  fan  of  turkey-feathers, 


With  his  plumes  and  tufts  of  swan's  down, 
Till  he  reached  the  farthest  wigwam, 
Reached  the  lodge  of  Hiawatha. 

Silent  was  it  and  deserted ; 
No  one  met  him  at  the  doorway, 
No  one  came  to  bid  him  welcome ; 
But  the  birds  were  singing  round  it, 
In  and  out  and  round  the  doorway, 
Hopping,  singing,  fluttering,  feeding, 
And  aloft  upon  the  ridge-pole 
Kahgahgee,  the  King  of  Ravens, 
Sat  with  fiery  eyes,  and,  screaming, 
Flapped  his  wings  at  Pau-Puk-Keewis. 

"  All  are  gone !  the  lodge  is  empty ! " 
Thus  it  was  spake  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
In  his  heart  resolving  mischief; 
"  Gone  is  wary  Hiawatha, 
Gone  the  silly  Laughing  Water, 
Gone  Nokomis,  the  old  woman, 
And  the  lodge  is  left  unguarded  ! " 


By  the  neck  he  seized  the  raven, 
Whirled  it  round  him  like  a  rattle, 
Like  a  medicine-pouch  he  shook  it, 
Strangled  Kahgahgee,  the  raven, 
From  the  ridge-pole  of  the  wigwam 
Left  its  lifeless  body  hanging, 
As  an  insult  to  its  master, 
As  a  taunt  to  Hiawatha, 

With  a  stealthy  step  he  entered, 
Round  the  lodge  in  wild  disorder 
Threw  the  household  things  about  him, 
Piled  together  in  confusion 
Bowls  of  wood  and  earthen  kettles, 
Robes  of  buffalo  and  beaver, 
Skins  of  otter,  lynx,  and  ermine, 
As  an  insult  to  Nokomis, 
As  a  taunt  to  Minnehaha. 

Then  departed  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
Whistling,  singing  through  the  forest, 
Whistling  gayly  to  the  squirrels, 


Who  from  hollow  boughs  above  him 
Dropped  their  acorn-shells  upon  him, 
Singing  gayly  to  the  wood-birds, 
Who  from  out  the  leafy  darkness 
Answered  with  a  song  as  merry. 

Then  he  climbed  the  rocky  headlands, 
Looking  o'er  the  Gitche  Gumee, 
Perched  himself  upon  their  summit, 
Waiting  full  of  mirth  and  mischief 
The  return  of  Hiawatha. 

Stretched  upon  his  back  he  lay  there ; 
Far  below  him  plashed  the  waters, 
Plashed  and  washed  the  dreamy  waters ; 
Far  above  him  swam  the  heavens, 
Swam  the  dizzy,  dreamy  heavens ; 
Round  him  hovered,  fluttered,  rustled, 
Hiawatha's  mountain  chickens, 
Flock-wise  swept  and  wheeled  about  him, 
Almost  brushed  him  with  their  pinions. 

And  he  killed  them  as  he  lay  there, 


Slaughtered  them  by  tens  and  twenties, 
Threw  their  bodies  down  the  headland, 
Threw  them  on  the  beach  below  him, 
Till  at  length  Kayoshk,  the  sea-gull, 
Perched  upon  a  crag  above  them, 
Shouted :  "  It  is  Pau-Puk-Keewis  ! 
He  is  slaying  us  by  hundreds  ! 
Send  a  message  to  our  brother, 
Tidings  send  to  Hiawatha ! " 



FULL  of  wrath  was  Hiawatha 
When  he  came  into  the  village, 
Found  the  people  in  confusion, 
Heard  of  all  the  misdemeanours, 
All  the  malice  and  the  mischief, 
Of  the  cunning  Pau-Puk-Keewis. 

Hard  his  breath  came  through  his  nostrils, 
Through  his  teeth  he  buzzed  and  muttered 
"Words  of  anger  and  resentment, 
Hot  and  humming,  like  a  hornet. 
"  I  will  slay  this  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
Slay  this  mischief-maker ! "  said  he. 


"  Not  so  long  and  wide  the  world  is, 
Not  so  rude  and  rough  the  way  is, 
That  my  wrath  shall  not  attain  him, 
That  my  vengeance  shall  not  reach  him ! " 

Then  in  swift  pursuit  departed 
Hiawatha  and  the  hunters 
On  the  trail  of  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
Through  the  forest,  where  he  passed  it, 
To  the  headlands  where  he  rested; 
But  they  found  not  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
Only  in  the  trampled  grasses, 
In  the  whortleberry  bushes, 
Found  the  couch  where  he  had  rested, 
Found  the  impress  of  his  body. 

From  the  lowlands  far  beneath  them* 
From  the  Muskoday,  the  meadow, 
Pau-Puk-Keewis,  turning  backward, 
Made  a  gesture  of  defiance, 
Made  a  gesture  of  derision ; 
And  aloud  cried  Hiawatha, 



From  the  summit  of  the  mountain : 
"  Not  so  long  and  wide  the  world  is, 
Not  so  rude  and  rough  the  way  is, 
But  my  wrath  shall  overtake  you, 
And  my  vengeance  shall  attain  you ! " 

Over  rock  and  over  river, 
Thorough  bush,  and  brake,  and  forest, 
Ran  the  cunning  Pau-Puk-Keewis  ; 
Like  an  antelope  he  bounded, 
Till  he  came  unto  a  streamlet 
In  the  middle  of  the  forest, 
To  a  streamlet  still  and  tranquil, 
That  had  overflowed  its  margin, 
To  a  dam  made  by  the  beavers, 
To  a  pond  of  quiet  water, 
Where  knee-deep  the  trees  were  standing, 
Where  the  water-lilies  floated, 
Where  the  rushes  waved  and  whispered. 

On  the  dam  stood  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
On  the  dam  of  trunks  and  branches, 


Through  whose  chinks  the  water  spouted, 
O'er  whose  summit  flowed  the  streamlet. 
From  the  bottom  rose  a  beaver, 
Looked  with  two  great  eyes  of  wonder, 
Eyes  that  seemed  to  ask  a  question, 
At  the  stranger,  Pau-Puk-Keewis. 

On  the  dam  stood  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
O'er  his  ankles  flowed  the  streamlet, 
Flowed  the  bright  and  silvery  water, 
And  he  spake  unto  the  beaver, 
With  a  smile  he  spake  in  this  wise : 

"  O  my  friend  Ahmeek,  the  beaver, 
Cool  and  pleasant  is  the  water ; 
Let  me  dive  into  the  water, 
Let  me  rest  there  in  your  lodges ; 
Change  me,  too,  into  a  beaver  !  " 

Cautiously  replied  the  beaver, 
With  reserve  he  thus  made  answer : 
"  Let  me  first  consult  the  others, 
Let  me  ask  the  other  beavers." 


Down  he  sank  into  the  water, 
Heavily  sank  he,  as  a  stone  sinks, 
Down  among  the  leaves  and  branches, 
Brown  and  matted  at  the  bottom. 

On  the  dam  stood  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
O'er  his  ankles  flowed  the  streamlet, 
Spouted  through  the  chinks  below  him, 
Dashed  upon  the  stones  beneath  him, 
Spread  serene  and  calm  before  him, 
And  the  sunshine  and  the  shadows 
Fell  in  flecks  and  gleams  upon  him, 
Fell  in  little  shining  patches, 
Through  the  waving,  rustling  branches. 

From  the  bottom  rose  the  beavers, 
Silently  above  the  surface 
Rose  one  head  and  then  another, 
Till  the  pond  seemed  full  of  beavers, 
Full  of  black  and  shining  faces. 

To  the  beavers  Pau-Puk-Keewis 
Spake  entreating,  said  in  this  wise : 


"  Very  pleasant  is  your  dwelling, 
O  my  friends  !  and  safe  from  danger ; 
Can  you  not  with  all  your  cunning, 
All  your  wisdom  and  contrivance, 
Change  me,  too,  into  a  beaver  ?  " 

"  Yes ! "  replied  Ahmeek,  the  beaver, 
He  the  King  of  all  the  beavers, 
"  Let  yourself  slide  down  among  us, 
Down  into  the  tranquil  water." 

Down  into  the  pond  among  them    • 
Silently  sank  Pau-Puk-Keewis ; 
Black  became  his  shirt  of  deer-skin, 
Black  his  moccasons  and  leggings, 
In  a  broad  black  tail  behind  him 
Spread  his  fox-tails  and  his  fringes ; 
He  was  changed  into  a  beaver. 

"  Make  me  large,"  said  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
"  Make  me  large  and  make  me  larger, 
Larger  than  the  other  beavers." 
"  Yes,"  the  beaver  chief  responded, 


"  When  our  lodge  below  you  enter, 
In  our  wigwam  we  will  make  you 
Ten  times  larger  than  the  others." 

Thus  into  the  clear,  brown  water 
Silently  sank  Pau-Puk-Keewis ; 
Found  the  bottom  covered  over 
With  the  trunks  of  trees  and  branches, 
Hoards  of  food  against  the  winter, 
Piles  and  heaps  against  the  famine, 
Found  the  lodge  with  arching  doorway, 
Leading  into  spacious  chambers. 

Here  they  made  him  large  and  larger, 
Made  him  largest  of  the  beavers, 
Ten  times  larger  than  the  others. 
"  You  shall  be  our  ruler,"  said  they ; 
"  Chief  and  king  of  all  the  beavers." 

But  not  long  had  Pau-Puk-Keewis 
Sat  in  state  among  the  beavers, 
When  there  came  a  voice  of  warning 
From  the  watchman  at  his  station 


In  the  water-flags  and  lilies, 
Saying,  "  Here  is  Hiawatha ! 
Hiawatha  with  his  hunters ! " 

Then  they  heard  a  cry  above  them, 
Heard  a  shouting  and  a  tramping, 
Heard  a  crashing  and  a  rushing, 
And  the  water  round  and  o'er  them 
Sank  and  sucked  away  in  eddies, 
And  they  knew  their  dam  was  broken. 

On  the  lodge's  roof  the  hunters 
Leaped,  and  broke  it  all  asunder ; 
Streamed  the  sunshine  through  the  crevice, 
Sprang  the  beavers  through  the  doorway, 
Hid  themselves  in  deeper  water, 
In  the  channel  of  the  streamlet ; 
But  the  mighty  Pau-Puk-Keewis 
Could  not  pass  beneath  the  doorway ; 
He  was  puffed  with  pride  and  feeding, 
He  was  swollen  like  a  bladder. 

Through  the  roof  looked  Hiawatha, 


Cried  aloud,  "  O  Pau-Puk-Keewis  ! 
Vain  are  all  your  craft  and  cunning, 
Vain  your  manifold  disguises  ! 
Well  I  know  you,  Pau-Puk-Keewis  ! " 

With  their  clubs  they  beat  and  bruised  him, 
Beat  to  death  poor  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
Pounded  him  as  maize  is  pounded, 
Till  his  skull  was  crushed  to  pieces. 

Six  tall  hunters,  lithe  and  limber, 
Bore  him  home  on  poles  and  branches, 
Bore  the  body  of  the  beaver  ; 
But  the  ghost,  the  Jeebi  in  him, 
Thought  and  felt  as  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
Still  lived  on  as  Pau-Puk-Keewis. 

And  it  fluttered,  strove,  and  struggled, 
Waving  hither,  waving  thither, 
As  the  curtains  of  a  wigwam 
Struggle  with  their  thongs  of  deer-skin, 
When  the  wintry  wind  is  blowing ; 
Till  it  drew  itself  together, 


Till  it  rose  up  from  the  body, 
Till  it  took  the  form  and  features 
Of  the  cunning  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
Vanishing  into  the  forest. 

But  the  wary  Hiawatha 
Saw  the  figure  ere  it  vanished, 
Saw  the  form  of  Pau-Puk-Keewis 
Glide  into  the  soft  blue  shadow 
Of  the  pine-trees  of  the  forest, 
Toward  the  squares  of  white  beyond  it, 
Toward  an  opening  in  the  forest, 
Like  a  wind  it  rushed  and  panted, 
Bending  all  the  boughs  before  it, 
And  behind  it,  as  the  rain  comes, 
Came  the  steps  of  Hiawatha. 

To  a  lake  with  many  islands 
Came  the  breathless  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
Where  among  the  water-lilies 
Pishnekuh,  the  brant,  were  sailing ; 
Through  the  tufts  of  rushes  floating, 


Steering  through  the  reedy  islands. 
Now  their  broad  black  beaks  they  lifted, 
Now  they  plunged  beneath  the  water, 
Now  they  darkened  in  the  shadow, 
Now  they  brightened  in  the  sunshine. 

"  Pishnekuh  !"  cried  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
"  Pishnekuh  !  my  brothers !"  said  he, 
"  Change  me  to  a  brant  with  plumage, 
With  a  shining  neck  and  feathers, 
Make  me  large,  and  make  me  larger, 
Ten  times  larger  than  the  others." 

Straightway  to  a  brant  they  changed  him, 
With  two  huge  and  dusky  pinions, 
With  a  bosom  smooth  and  rounded, 
With  a  bill  like  two  great  paddles, 
Made  him  larger  than  the  others, 
Ten  times  larger  than  the  largest, 
Just  as,  shouting  from  the  forest, 
On  the  shore  stood  Hiawatha. 

Up  they  rose  with  cry  and  clamour, 


With  a  whirr  and  beat  of  pinions, 
Rose  up  from  the  reedy  islands, 
From  the  water-flags  and  lilies. 
And  they  said  to  Pau-Puk-Keewis  : 
"  In  your  flying,  look  not  downward, 
Take  good  heed,  and  look  not  downward, 
Lest  some  strange  mischance  should  happen, 
Lest  some  great  mishap  befall  you  ! " 

Fast  and  far  they  fled  to  northward, 
Fast  and  far  through  mist  and  sunshine, 
Fed  among  the  moors  and  fen-lands, 
Slept  among  the  reeds  and  rushes. 

On  the  morrow  as  they  journeyed, 
Buoyed  and  lifted  by  the  South-wind, 
Wafted  onward  by  the  South-wind, 
Blowing  fresh  and  strong  behind  them, 
Rose  a  sound  of  human  voices, 
Rose  a  clamour  from  beneath  them, 
From  the  lodges  of  a  village, 
From  the  people  miles  beneath  them. 


For  the  people  of  the  village 
Saw  the  flock  of  brant  with  wonder. 
Saw  the  wings  of  Pau-Puk-Keewis 
Flapping  far  up  in  the  ether, 
Broader  than  two  doorway  curtains. 

Pau-Puk-Keewis  heard  the  shouting, 
Knew  the  voice  of  Hiawatha, 
Knew  the  outcry  of  lagoo, 
And,  forgetful  of  the  warning, 
Drew  his  neck  in,  and  looked  downward, 
And  the  wind  that  blew  behind  him 
Caught  his  mighty  fan  of  feathers, 
Sent  him  wheeling,  whirling  downward ! 

All  in  vain  did  Pau-Puk-Keewis 
Struggle  to  regain  his  balance ! 
Whirling  round  and  round  and  downward, 
He  beheld  in  turn  the  village 
And  in  turn  the  flock  above  him, 
Saw  the  village  coming  nearer, 
And  the  flock  receding  farther, 


Heard  the  voices  growing  louder, 
Heard  the  shouting  and  the  laughter ; 
Saw  no  more  the  flock  above  him, 
Only  saw  the  earth  beneath  him ; 
Dead  out  of  the  empty  heaven, 
Dead  among  the  shouting  people, 
With  a  heavy  sound  and  sullen, 
Fell  the  brant  with  broken  pinions. 

But  his  soul,  his  ghost,  his  shadow, 
Still  survived  as  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
Took  again  the  form  and  features 
Of  the  handsome  Yenadizze, 
And  again  went  rushing  onward, 
Followed  fast  by  Hiawatha, 
Crying :  "  Not  so  wide  the  world  is, 
Not  so  long  and  rough  the  way  is, 
But  my  wrath  shall  overtake  you, 
But  my  vengeance  shall  attain  you ! " 

And  so  near  he  came,  so  near  him, 
That  his  hand  was  stretched  to  seize  him, 


His  right  hand  to  seize  and  hold  him, 
When  the  cunning  Pau-Puk-Keewis 
Whirled  and  spun  about  in  circles, 
Fanned  the  air  into  a  whirlwind, 
Danced  the  dust  and  leaves  about  him, 
And  amid  the  whirling  eddies 
Sprang  into  a  hollow  oak-tree, 
Changed  himself  into  a  serpent, 
Gliding  out  through  root  and  rubbish. 

With  his  right  hand  Hiawatha 
Smote  amain  the  hollow  oak-tree, 
Rent  it  into  shreds  and  splinters, 
Left  it  lying  there  in  fragments. 
But  in  vain ;  for  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
Once  again  in  human  figure, 
Full  in  sight  ran  on  before  him, 
Sped  away  in  gust  and  whirlwind, 
On  the  shores  of  Gitche  Gumee, 
Westward  by  the  Big-Sea-Water, 
Came  unto  the  rocky  headlands, 


To  the  Pictured  Rocks  of  sandstone, 
Looking  over  lake  and  landscape. 

And  the  Old  Man  of  the  Mountain, 
He  the  Manito  of  Mountains, 
Opened  wide  his  rocky  doorways, 
Opened  wide  his  deep  abysses, 
Giving  Pau-Puk-Keewis  shelter 
In  his  caverns  dark  and  dreary, 
Bidding  Pau-Puk-Keewis  welcome 
To  his  gloomy  lodge  of  sandstone. 

There  without  stood  Hiawatha, 
Found  the  doorways  closed  against  him, 
With  his  mittens,  Minjekahwun, 
Smote  great  caverns  in  the  sandstone, 
Cried  aloud  in  tones  of  thunder, 
"  Open !  I  am  Hiawatha!" 
But  the  Old  Man  of  the  Mountain 
Opened  not,  and  made  no  answer 
From  the  silent  crags  of  sandstone, 
From  the  gloomy  rock  abysses. 


Then  he  raised  his  hands  to  heaven, 
Called  imploring  on  the  tempest, 
Called  Waywassimo,  the  lightning, 
And  the  thunder,  Annemeekee ; 
And  they  came  with  night  and  darkness, 
Sweeping  down  the  Big-Sea-Water 
From  the  distant  Thunder  Mountains; 
And  the  trembling  Pau-Pnk-Keewis 
Heard  the  footsteps  of  the  thunder, 
Saw  the  red  eyes  of  the  lightning, 
Was  afraid,  and  crouched  and  trembled. 

Then  Waywassimo,  the  lightning, 
Smote  the  doorways  of  the  caverns, 
With  his  war-club  smote  the  doorways, 
Smote  the  jutting  crags  of  sandstone. 
And  the  thunder,  Annemeekee, 
Shouted  down  into  the  caverns, 
Saying,  "  Where  is  Pau-Puk-Keewis ! " 
And  the  crags  fell,  and  beneath  them 
Dead  among  the  rocky  ruins 


Lay  the  cunning  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
Lay  the  handsome  Yenadizze, 
Slain  in  his  own  human  figure. 

Ended  were  his  wild  adventures, 
Ended  were  his  tricks  and  gambols, 
Ended  all  his  craft  and  cunning, 
Ended  all  his  mischief-making, 
All  his  gambling  and  his  dancing, 
All  his  wooing  of  the  maidens. 

Then  the  noble  Hiawatha 
Took  his  soul,  his  ghost,  his  shadow, 
Spake  and  said :  "  O  Pau-Puk-Keewis ! 
Never  more  in  human  figure 
Shall  you  search  for  new  adventures  ; 
Never  more  with  jest  and  laughter 
Dance  the  dust  and  leaves  in  whirlwinds 
But  above  there  in  the  heavens 
You  shall  soar  and  sail  in  circles ; 
I  will  change  you  to  an  eagle, 
To  Keneu,  the  great  War-Eagle, 


Chief  of  all  the  fowls  with  feathers, 
Chief  of  Hiawatha's  chickens." 

And  the  name  of  Pau-Puk-Keewis 
Lingers  still  among  the  people, 
Lingers  still  among  the  singers, 
And  among  the  story-tellers ; 
And  in  Winter,  when  the  snow-flakes 
Whirl  in  eddies  round  the  lodges, 
When  the  wind  in  gusty  tumult 
O'er  the  smoke-flue  pipes  and  whistles, 
ef  There,"  they  cry,  "  comes  Pau-Puk-Keewis ; 
He  is  dancing  through  the  village, 
He  is  gathering  in  his  harvest !" 



FAR  and  wide  among  the  nations 
Spread  the  name  and  fame  of  Kwasind ; 
No  man  dared  to  strive  with  Kwasind, 
No  man  could  compete  with  Kwasind. 
But  the  mischievous  Puk-Wudjies, 
They  the  envious  Little  People, 
They  the  fairies  and  the  pigmies, 
Plotted  and  conspired  against  him. 

"  If  this  hateful  Kwasind,"  said  they, 
"  If  this  great,  outrageous  fellow 
Goes  on  thus  a  little  longer, 
Tearing  everything  he  touches, 


Rending  everything  to  pieces, 
Filling  all  the  world  with  wonder, 
What  becomes  of  the  Puk-Wudjies  ? 
Who  will  care  for  the  Puk-Wudjies  ? 
He  will  tread  us  down  like  mushrooms, 
Drive  us  all  into  the  water, 
Give  our  bodies  to  be  eaten 
By  the  wicked  Nee-ba-naw-baigs, 
By  the  Spirits  of  the  water  !" 
So  the  angry  Little  People 
All  conspired  against  the  Strong  Man, 
All  conspired  to  murder  Kwasind, 


Yes,  to  rid  the  world  of  Kwasind, 

The  audacious,  overbearing, 

Heartless,  haughty,  dangerous  Kwasind  ! 

Now  this  wondrous  strength  of  Kwasind 
In  his  crown  alone  was  seated  ; 
In  his  crown  too  was  his  weakness ; 
There  alone  could  he  be  wounded, 
Nowhere  else  could  weapon  pierce  him, 


Nowhere  else  could  weapon  harm  him. 

Even  there  the  only  weapon 
That  could  wound  him,  that  could  slay  him, 
Was  the  seed-cone  of  the  pine-tree, 
Was  the  blue  cone  of  the  fir-tree. 
This  was  Kwasind's  fatal  secret, 
Known  to  no  man  among  mortals  ; 
But  the  cunning  Little  People, 
The  Puk-Wudjies,  knew  the  secret, 
Knew  the  only  way  to  kill  him. 

So  they  gathered  cones  together, 
Gathered  seed-cones  of  the  pine-tree, 
Gathered  blue  cones  of  the  fir-tree, 
In  the  woods  by  Taquamenaw, 
Brought  them  to  the  river's  margin, 
Heaped  them  in  great  piles  together, 
Where  the  red  rocks  from  the  margin 
Jutting  overhang  the  river. 
There  they  lay  in  wait  for  Kwasind, 
The  malicious  Little  People. 


'Twas  an  afternoon  in  Summer ; 
Very  hot  and  still  the  air  was, 
Very  smooth  the  gliding  river, 
Motionless  the  sleeping  shadows  : 
Insects  glistened  in  the  sunshine, 
Insects  skated  on  the  water, 
Filled  the  drowsy  air  with  buzzing, 
With  a  far-resounding  war-cry. 

Down  the  river  came  the  Strong  Man, 
In  his  birch-canoe  came  Kwasind, 
Floating  slowly  down  the  current 
Of  the  sluggish  Taquamenaw, 
Very  languid  with  the  weather, 
Very  sleepy  with  the  silence. 

From  the  overhanging  branches, 
From  the  tassels  of  the  birch-trees, 
Soft  the  Spirit  of  Sleep  descended ; 
By  his  airy  hosts  surrounded, 
His  invisible  attendants, 
Came  the  Spirit  of  Sleep,  Nepahwin ; 


Like  the  burnished  Dush-kwo-ne-she, 
Like  a  dragon-fly,  he  hovered 
O'er  the  drowsy  head  of  Kwasind. 

To  his  ear  there  came  a  murmur 
As  of  waves  upon  a  sea-shore, 
As  of  far-off  tumbling  waters, 
As  of  winds  among  the  pine-trees ; 
And  he  felt  upon  his  forehead 
Blows  of  little  airy  war-clubs, 
Wielded  by  the  slumbrous  legions 
Of  the  Spirit  of  Sleep,  Nepahwin, 
As  of  some  one  breathing  on  him. 

At  the  first  blow  of  their  war-clubs, 
Fell  a  drowsiness  on  Kwasind ; 
At  the  second  blow  they  smote  him, 
Motionless  his  paddle  rested ; 
At  the  third,  before  his  vision 
Reeled  the  landscape  into  darkness, 
Very  sound  asleep  was  Kwasind. 

So  he  floated  down  the  river, 


Like  a  blind  man  seated  upright, 
Floated  down  the  Taquamenaw, 
Underneath  the  trembling  birch-trees, 
Underneath  the  wooded  headlands, 
Underneath  the  war  encampment 
Of  the  pigmies,  the  Puk-Wudjies. 

There  they  stood,  all  armed  and  waiting, 
Hurled  the  pine-cones  down  upon  him, 
Struck  him  on  his  brawny  shoulders, 
On  his  crown  defenceless  struck  him. 
"  Death  to  Kwasind  !"  was  the  sudden 
War-cry  of  the  Little  People. 

And  he  sideways  swayed  and  tumbled, 
Sideways  fell  into  the  river, 
Plunged  beneath  the  sluggish  water 
Headlong,  as  an  otter  plunges ; 
And  the  birch-canoe,  abandoned, 
Drifted  empty  down  the  river, 
Bottom  upward  swerved  and  drifted : 
Nothing  more  was  seen  of  Kwasind. 


But  the  memory  of  the  Strong  Man 
Lingered  long  among  the  people, 
And  whenever  through  the  forest 
Raged  and  roared  the  wintry  tempest. 
And  the  branches,  tossed  and  troubled, 
Creaked  and  groaned  and  split  asunder, 
"  Kwasind ! "  cried  they ;  "  that  is  Kwasind  ! 
He  is  gathering  in  his  fire-wood ! " 



NEVER  stoops  the  soaring  vulture 
On  his  quarry  in  the  desert, 
On  the  sick  or  wounded  bison, 
But  another  vulture,  watching 
From  his  high  aerial  look-out, 
Sees  the  downward  plunge,  and  follows ; 
And  a  third  pursues  the  second, 
Coming  from  the  invisible  ether, 
First  a  speck,  and  then  a  vulture, 
Till  the  air  is  dark  with  pinions. 
So  disasters  come  not  singly ; 
But  as  if  they  watched  and  waited, 

THE  GHOSTS.  251 

Scanning  one  another's  motions. 
When  the  first  descends,  the  others 
Follow,  follow,  gathering  flock-wise 
Round  their  victim,  sick  and  wounded, 
First  a  shadow,  then  a  sorrow, 
Till  the  air  is  dark  with  anguish. 

Now  o'er  all  the  dreary  Northland, 
Mighty  Peboan,  the  Winter, 
Breathing  on  the  lakes  and  rivers, 
Into  stone  had  changed  their  waters. 
From  his  hair  he  shook  the  snow-flakes, 
Till  the  plains  were  strewn  with  whiteness, 
One  uninterrupted  level, 
As  if,  stooping,  the  Creator 
With  his  hand  had  smoothed  them  over. 

Through  the  forest,  wide  and  wailing, 
Roamed  the  hunter  on  his  snow-shoes  ; 
In  the  village  worked  the  women, 
Pounded  maize,  or  dressed  the  deer-skin ; 
And  the  young  men  played  together 


On  the  ice  the  noisy  ball-play, 
On  the  plain  the  dance  of  snow-shoes. 
One  dark  evening,  after  sundown, 
In  her  wigwam  Laughing  Water 
Sat  with  old  Nokomis,  waiting 
For  the  steps  of  Hiawatha 
Homeward  from  the  hunt  returning. 


On  their  faces  gleamed  the  fire-light, 
Painting  them  with  streaks  of  crimson, 
In  the  eyes  of  old  Nokomis 
Glimmered  like  the  watery  moonlight, 
In  the  eyes  of  Laughing  Water 
Glistened  like  the  sun  in  water ; 
And  behind  them  crouched  their  shadows 
In  the  corners  of  the  wigwam, 
And  the  smoke  in  wreaths  above  them 
Climbed  and  crowded  through  the  smoke-flue. 

Then  the  curtain  of  the  doorway 
From  without  was  slowly  lifted ; 
Brighter  glowed  the  fire  a  moment, 

THE  GHOSTS.  253 

And  a  moment  swerved  the  smoke-wreath, 
As  two  women  entered  softly. 
Passed  the  doorway  uninvited, 
Without  word  of  salutation, 
Without  sign  of  recognition, 
Sat  down  in  the  farthest  corner, 
Crouching  low  among  the  shadows. 

From  their  aspect  and  their  garments, 
Strangers  seemed  they  in  the  village ; 
Very  pale  and  haggard  were  they, 
As  they  sat  there  sad  and  silent, 
Trembling,  cowering  with  the  shadows. 

Was  it  the  wind  above  the  smoke-flue, 
Muttering  down  into  the  wigwam  ? 
Was  it  the  owl,  the  Koko-koho, 
Hooting  from  the  dismal  forest  ? 
Sure  a  voice  said  in  the  silence  : 
"  These  are  corpses  clad  in  garments, 
These  are  ghosts  that  come  to  haunt  you, 
From  the  kingdom  of  Ponemah, 


From  the  land  of  the  Hereafter  ! " 
Homeward  now  came  Hiawatha 
From  his  hunting  in  the  forest, 
With  the  snow  upon  his  tresses, 
And  the  red  deer  on  his  shoulders. 
At  the  feet  of  Laughing  Water 
Down  he  threw  his  lifeless  .burden; 
Nobler,  handsomer  she  thought  him, 
Than  when  first  he  came  to  woo  her, 
First  threw  down  the  deer  before  her, 
As  a  token  of  his  wishes, 
As  a  promise  of  the  future. 

Then  he  turned  and  saw  the  strangers, 
Cowering,  crouching  with  the  shadows ; 
Said  within  himself,  "  Who  are  they  ? 
What  strange  guests  has  Minnehaha  ? " 
But  he  questioned  not  the  strangers, 
Only  spake  to  bid  them  welcome 
To  his  lodge,  his  food,  his  fireside. 
When  the  evening  meal  was  ready, 

THE  GHOSTS.  255 

And  the  deer  had  been  divided, 
Both  the  pallid  guests,  the  strangers, 
Springing  from  among  the  shadows, 
Seized  upon  the  choicest  portions, 
Seized  the  white  fat  of  the  roebuck, 
Set  apart  for  Laughing  Water, 
For  the  wife  of  Hiawatha ; 
Without  asking,  without  thanking, 
Eagerly  devoured  the  morsels, 
Flitted  back  among  the  shadows 
In  the  corner  of  the  wigwam. 
Not  a  word  spake  Hiawatha, 
Not  a  motion  made  Nozomis, 
Not  a  gesture  Laughing  Water ; 
Not  a  change  came  o'er  their  features ; 
Only  Minnehaha  softly 
Whispered,  saying,  "They  are  famished; 
Let  them  do  what  best  delights  them ; 
Let  them  eat,  for  they  are  famished." 
Many  a  daylight  dawned  and  darkened, 


Many  a  night  shook  off  the  daylight 
As  the  pine  shakes  off  the  snow-flakes 
From  the  midnight  of  its  branches  ; 
Day  by  day  the  guests  unmoving 
Sat  there  silent  in  the  wigwam ; 
But  by  night,  in  storm  or  starlight, 
Forth  they  went  into  the  forest, 
Bringing  fire-wood  to  the  wigwam, 
Bringing  pine-cones  for  the  burning, 
Always  sad  and  always  silent. 

And  whenever  Hiawatha 
Came  from  fishing  or  from  hunting, 
When  the  evening  meal  -was  ready, 
And  the  food  had  been  divided, 
Gliding  from  their  darksome  corner, 
Came  the  pallid  guests,  the  strangers, 
Seized  upon  the  choicest  portions 
Set  aside  for  Laughing 'Water, 
And  without  rebuke  or  question 
Flitted  back  among  the  shadows. 

THE  GHOSTS.  257 

Never  once  had  Hiawatha 
By  a  word  or  look  reproved  them ; 
Never  once  had  old  Nokomis 
Made  a  gesture  of  impatience : 
Never  once  had  Laughing  Water 
Shown  resentment  at  the  outrage. 
All  had  they  endured  in  silence, 
That  the  rights  of  guest  and  stranger, 
That  the  virtue  of  free-giving, 
By  a  look  might  not  be  lessened, 
By  a  word  might  not  be  broken. 

Once  at  midnight  Hiawatha, 
Ever  wakeful,  ever  watchful, 
In  the  wigwam,  dimly  lighted 
By  the  brands  that  still  were  burning, 
By  the  glimmering,  flickering  fire-light, 
Heard  a  sighing,  oft  repeated, 
Heard  a  sobbing,  as  of  sorrow. 

From  his  couch  rose  Hiawatha, 
From  his  shaggy  hides  of  bison, 


Pushed  aside  the  deer-skin  curtain, 
Saw  the  pallid  guests,  the  shadows, 
Sitting  upright  on  their  couches, 
Weeping  in  the  silent  midnight. 

And  he  said :  "  O  guests  !  why  is  it 
That  your  hearts  are  so  afflicted, 
That  you  sob  so  in  the  midnight  ? 
Has  perchance  the  old  Nokomis, 
Has  my  wife,  my  Minnehaha, 
Wronged  or  grieved  you  by  unkindness, 
Failed  in  hospitable  duties  ?  " 

Then  the  shadows  ceased  from  weeping, 
Ceased  from  sobbing  and  lamenting, 
And  they  said,  with  gentle  voices  : 
"  We  are  ghosts  of  the  departed, 
Souls  of  those  who  once  were  with  you. 
From  the  realms  of  Chibiabos 
Hither  have  we  come  to  try  you, 
Hither  have  we  come  to  warn  you. 

"  Cries  of  grief  and  lamentation 

THE  GHOSTS.  259 

Reach  us  in  the  Blessed  Islands ; 
Cries  of  anguish  from  the  living, 
Calling  back  their  friends  departed, 
Sadden  us  with  useless  sorrow. 
Therefore  have  we  come  to  try  you  ; 
No  one  knows  us,  no  one  heeds  us. 
We  are  but  a  burden  to  you, 
And  we  see  that  the  departed 
Have  no  place  among  the  living. 

"  Think  of  this,  O  Hiawatha ! 
Speak  of  it  to  all  the  people, 
That  henceforward  and  for  ever 
They  no  more  with  lamentations 
Sadden  the  souls  of  the  departed 
In  the  Islands  of  the  Blessed. 

"  Do  not  lay  such  heavy  burdens 
In  the  graves  of  those  you  bury, 
Not  such  weight  of  furs  and  wampum, 
Not  such  weight  of  pots  and  kettles, 
For  the  spirits  faint  beneath  them. 


Only  give  them  food  to  carry, 
Only  give  them  fire  to  light  them. 

"  Four  days  is  the  spirit's  journey 
To  the  land  of  ghosts  and  shadows, 
Four  its  lonely  night  encampments ; 
Four  times  must  their  fires  be  lighted. 
Therefore,  when  the  dead  are  buried, 
Let  a  fire,  as  night  approaches, 
Four  times  on  the  grave  be  kindled, 
That  the  soul  upon  its  journey 
May  not  lack  the  cheerful  fire-light, 
May  not  grope  about  in  darkness. 

"  Farewell,  noble  Hiawatha  I 
We  have  put  you  to  the  trial, 
To  the  proof  have  put  your  patience, 
By  the  insult  of  our  presence, 
By  the  outrage  of  our  actions. 
We  have  found  you  great  and  noble. 
Fail  not  in  the  greater  trial, 
Faint  not  in  the  harder  struggle." 

THE  GHOSTS.  261 

When  they  ceased,  a  sudden  darkness 
Fell  and  filled  the  silent  wigwam. 
Hiawatha  heard  a  rustle 
As  of  garments  trailing  by  him, 
Heard  the  curtain  of  the  doorway 


Lifted  by  a  hand  he  saw  not, 
Felt  the  cold  breath  of  the  night  air, 
For  a  moment  saw  the  starlight ; 
But  he  saw  the  ghosts  no  longer, 
Saw  no  more  the  wandering  spirits 
From  the  kingdom  of  Ponemah, 
From  the  land  of  the  Hereafter. 



O  THE  long  and  dreary  Winter ! 
O  the  cold  and  cruel  Winter ! 
Ever  thicker,  thicker,  thicker 
Froze  the  ice  on  lake  and  river. 
Ever  deeper,  deeper,  deeper 
Fell  the  snow  o'er  all  the  landscape, 
Fell  the  covering  snow,  and  drifted 
Through  the  forest,  round  the  village. 

Hardly  from  his  buried  wigwam 
Could  the  hunter  force  a  passage ; 
With  his  mittens  and  his  snow-shoes 
Vainly  walked  he  through  the  forest, 

THE  FAMINE.  263 

Sought  for  bird  or  beast  and  found  none, 

Saw  no  track  of  deer  or  rabbit, 

In  the  snow  beheld  no  footprints, 

In  the  ghastly,  gleaming  forest 

Fell,  and  could  not  rise  from  weakness, 

Perished  there  from  cold  and  hunger. 

O  the  famine  and  the  fever ! 
O  the  wasting  of  the  famine ! 
O  the  blasting  of  the  fever  ! 
O  the  wailing  of  the  children ! 
O  the  anguish  of  the  women  ! 

All  the  earth  was  sick  and  famished ; 
Hungry  was  the  air  around  them, 
Hungry  was  the  sky  above  them, 
And  the  hungry  stars  in  heaven 
Like  the  eyes  of  wolves  glared  at  them  ! 

Into  Hiawatha's  wigwam 
Came  two  other  guests,  as  silent 
As  the  ghosts  were,  and  as  gloomy, 
Waited  not  to  be  invited, 


Did  not  parley  at  the  doorway, 
Sat  there  without  word  of  welcome 
In  the  seat  of  Laughing  Water ; 
Looked  with  haggard  eyes  and  hollow 
At  the  face  of  Laughing  Water. 

And  the  foremost  said :  "  Behold  me  ! 
I  am  Famine,  Bukadawin ! " 
And  the  other  said :  "  Behold  me  ! 
I  am  Fever,  Ahkosewin  ! " 

And  the  lovely  Minnehaha 
Shuddered  as  they  looked  upon  her, 
Shuddered  at  the  words  they  uttered, 
Lay  down  on  her  bed  in  silence, 
Hid  her  face,  but  made  no  answer ; 
Lay  there  trembling,  freezing,  burning 
At  the  looks  they  cast  upon  her, 
At  the  fearful  words  they  uttered. 

Forth  into  the  empty  forest 
Rushed  the  maddened  Hiawatha, 
In  his  heart  was  deadly  sorrow, 

THE  FAMINE.  265 

In  his  face  a  stony  firmness ; 
On  his  brow  the  sweat  of  anguish 
Started,  but  it  froze  and  fell  not. 

Wrapped  in  furs  and  armed  for  hunting, 
With  his  mighty  bow  of  ash-tree, 
With  his  quiver  full  of  arrows, 
With  his  mittens,  Minjekahwun, 
Into  the  vast  and  vacant  forest 
On  his  snow-shoes  strode  he  forward. 

"Gitche  Manito,  the  Mighty!" 
Cried  he  with  his  face  uplifted 
In  that  bitter  hour  of  anguish, 
u  Give  your  children  food,  O  father  I 
Give  us  food,  or  we  must  perish ! 
Give  me  food  for  Minnehaha, 
For  my  dying  Minnehaha ! " 

Through  the  far-resounding  forest, 
Through  the  forest  vast  and  vacant 
Rang  that  cry  of  desolation, 
But  there  came  no  other  answer 


Than  the  echo  of  his  crying, 
Than  the  echo  of  the  woodlands, 
"  Minnehaha !  Minnehaha ! " 

All  day  long  roved  Hiawatha 
In  that  melancholy  forest, 
Through  the  shadow  of  whose  thickets, 
In  the  pleasant  days  of  Summer, 
Of  that  ne'er  forgotten  Summer, 
He  had  brought  his  young  wife  homeward 
From  the  land  of  the  Dacotahs ; 
When  the  birds  sang  in  the  thickets, 
And  the  streamlets  laughed  and  glistened, 
And  the  air  was  full  of  fragrance, 
And  the  lovely  Laughing  Water 
Said  with  voice  that  did  not  tremble, 
"  I  will  follow  you,  my  husband ! " 

In  the  wigwam  with  Nokomis, 
With  those  gloomy  guests,  that  watched  her, 
With  the  Famine  and  the  Fever, 
She  was  lying,  the  Beloved, 

THE  FAMINE.  267 

She  the  dying  Minnehaha. 

"  Hark ! "  she  said ;  "  I  hear  a  rushing, 
Hear  a  roaring  and  a  rushing, 
Hear  the  Falls  of  Minnehaha 
Calling  to  me  from  a  distance  ! " 
"  No,  my  child ! "  said  old  Nokomis, 
"  'T  is  the  night-wind  in  the  pine-trees ! " 

"  Look !"  she  said ;  "  I  see  my  father 
Standing  lonely  at  his  doorway, 
Beckoning  to  me  from  his  wigwam 
In  the  land  of  the  Dacotahs ! " 
"  No,  my  child ! "  said  old  Nokomis, 
"  'T  is  the  smoke,  that  waves  and  beckons !" 

"  Ah ! "  she  said,  "  the  eyes  of  Pauguk 
Glare  upon  me  in  the  darkness, 
I  can  feel  his  icy  fingers 
Clasping  mine  amid  the  darkness ! 
Hiawatha!  Hiawatha  I" 

And  the  desolate  Hiawatha, 
Far  away  amid  the  forest, 


Miles  away  among  the  mountains, 
Heard  that  sudden  cry  of  anguish, 
Heard  the  voice  of  Minnehaha 
Calling  to  him  in  the  darkness, 
"  Hiawatha !  Hiawatha  !" 

Over  snow-fields  waste  and  pathless, 
Under  snow-encumbered  branches, 
Homeward  hurried  Hiawatha, 
Empty-handed,  heavy-hearted, 
Heard  Nokomis  moaning,  wailing : 
"  Wahonomin !  Wahonomin ! 
Would  that  I  had  perished  for  you, 
Would  that  I  were  dead  as  you  are ! 
Wahonomin !  Wahonomin ! " 

And  he  rushed  into  the  wigwam, 
Saw  the  old  Nokomis  slowly 
Rocking  to  and  fro  and  moaning, 
Saw  his  lovely  Minnehaha 
Lying  dead  and  cold  before  him, 
And  his  bursting  heart  within  him 

THE  FAMINE.  269 

Uttered  such  a  cry  of  anguish, 
That  the  forest  moaned  and  shuddered, 
That  the  very  stars  in  heaven 
Shook  and  trembled  with  his  anguish. 

Then  he  sat  down,  still  and  speechless, 
On  the  bed  of  Minnehaha, 
At  the  feet  of  Laughing  Water, 
At  those  willing  feet  that  never 
More  would  lightly  run  to  meet  him, 
Never  more  would  lightly  follow. 

With  both  hands  his  face  he  covered, 
Seven  long  days  and  nights  he  sat  there, 
As  if  in  a  swoon  he  sat  there, 
Speechless,  motionless,  unconscious 
Of  the  daylight  or  the  darkness. 

Then  they  buried  Minnehaha ; 
In  the  snow  a  grave  they  made  her, 
In  the  forest  deep  and  darksome, 
Underneath  the  moaning  hemlocks ; 
Clothed  her  in  her  richest  garments, 


Wrapped  her  in  her  robes  of  ermine, 
Covered  her  with  snow,  like  ermine ; 
Thus  they  buried  Minnehaha.  , 

And  at  night  a  fire  was  lighted, 
On  her  grave  four  times  was  kindled, 
For  her  soul  upon  its  journey 
To  the  Islands  of  the  Blessed. 
From  his  doorway  Hiawatha 
Saw  it  burning  in  the  forest, 
Lighting  up  the  gloomy  hemlocks  ; 
From  his  sleepless  bed  uprising, 
From  the  bed  of  Minnehaha, 
Stood  and  watched  it  at  the  doorway, 
That  it  might  not  be  extinguished, 
Might  not  leave  her  in  the  darkness. 

"Farewell!"  said  he,  "Minnehaha! 
Farewell,  O  my  Laughing  Water  ! 
All  my  heart  is  buried  with  you, 
All  my  thoughts  go  onward  with  you ! 
Come  not  back  again  to  labour, 

THE  FAMINE.  271 

Come  not  back  again  to  suffer, 
Where  the  Famine  and  the  Fever 
Wear  the  heart  and  waste  the  body. 
Soon  my  task  will  be  completed, 
Soon  your  footsteps  I  shall  follow 
To  the  Islands  of  the  Blessed, 
To  the  Kingdom  of  Ponemah, 
To  the  Land  of  the  Hereafter!" 



IN  his  lodge  beside  a  river, 
Close  beside  a  frozen  river, 
Sat  an  old  man,  sacl  and  lonely. 
White  his  hair  was  as  a  snow-drift ; 
Dull  and  low  his  fire  was  burning, 
And  the  old  man  shook  and  trembled, 
Folded  in  his  Waubewyon, 
In  his  tattered  white-skin-wrapper, 
Hearing  nothing  but  the  tempest 
As  it  roared  along  the  forest, 
Seeing  nothing  but  the  snow-storm, 
As  it  whirled  and  hissed  and  drifted. 


All  the  coals  were  white  with  ashes, 
And  the  fire  was  slowly  dying, 
As  a  young  man,  walking  lightly, 
At  the  open  doorway  entered. 
Red  with  blood  of  youth  his  cheeks  were, 
Soft  his  eyes,  as  stars  in  Spring-time, 
Bound  his  forehead  was  with  grasses, 
Bound  and  plumed  with  scented  grasses ; 
On  his  lips  a  smile  of  beauty, 
Filling  all  the  lodge  with  sunshine, 
In  his  hand  a  bunch  of  blossoms 
Filling  all  the  lodge  with  sweetness. 

((  Ah,  my  son ! "  exclaimed  the  old  man, 
"  Happy  are  my  eyes  to  see  you. 
Sit  here  on  the  mat  beside  me, 
Sit  here  by  the  dying  embers, 
Let  us  pass  the  night  together. 
Tell  me  of  your  strange  adventures, 
Of  the  lands  where  you  have  travelled ; 
I  will  tell  you  of  my  prowess, 



Of  my  many  deeds  of  wonder." 

From  his  pouch  he  drew  his  peace-pipe, 
Very  old  and  strangely  fashioned ; 
Made  of  red  stone  was  the  pipe-head, 
And  the  stem  a  reed  with  feathers  ; 
Filled  the  pipe  with  bark  of  willow, 
Placed  a  burning  coal  upon  it, 
Gave  it  to  his  guest,  the  stranger, 
And  began  to  speak  in  this  wise  : 

"  When  I  blow  my  breath  about  me, 
When  I  breathe  upon  the  landscape, 
Motionless  are  all  the  rivers, 
Hard  as  stone  becomes  the  water  ! " 

And  the  young  man  answered,  smiling  : 
"  When  I  blow  my  breath  about  me, 
When  I  breathe  upon  the  landscape, 
Flowers  spring  up  o'er  all  the  meadows, 
Singing,  onward  rush  the  rivers ! " 

"  When  I  shake  my  hoary  tresses," 
Said  the  old  man  darkly  frowning, 


"  All  the  land  with  snow  is  covered ; 
All  the  leaves  from  all  the  branches 
Fall  and  fade  and  die  and  wither, 
For  I  breathe,  and  lo  !  they  are  not. 
From  the  waters  and  the  marshes 
Rise  the  wild  goose  and  the  heron, 
Fly  away  to  distant  regions, 
For  I  speak,  and  lo  I  they  are  not. 
And  where'er  my  footsteps  wander, 
All  the  wild  beasts  of  the  forest 
Hide  themselves  in  holes  and  caverns, 
And  the  earth  becomes  as  flintstone ! " 

"  When  I  shake  my  flowing  ringlets," 
Said  the  young  man,  softly  laughing, 
"  Showers  of  rain  fall  warm  and  welcome, 
Plants  lift  up  their  heads  rejoicing, 
Back  unto  their  lakes  and  marshes 
Come  the  wild  goose  and  the  heron, 
Homeward  shoots  the  arrowy  swallow, 
Sing  the  blue-bird  and  the  robin, 


And  where'er  my  footsteps  wander, 
All  the  meadows  wave  with  blossoms, 
All  the  woodlands  ring  with  music, 
All  the  trees  are  dark  with  foliage  ! " 

While  they  spake,  the  night  departed ; 
From  the  distant  realms  of  Wabun, 
From  his  shining  lodge  of  silver, 
Like  a  warrior  robed  and  painted, 
Came  the  sun,  and  said,  ff  Behold  me  ! 
Gheezis,  the  great  sun,  behold  me  ! " 

Then  the  old  man's  tongue  was  speechless, 
And  the  air  grew  warm  and  pleasant, 
And  upon  the  wigwam  sweetly 
Sang  the  blue-bird  and  the  robin, 
And  the  stream  began  to  murmur, 
And  a  scent  of  growing  grasses 
Through  the  lodge  was  gently  wafted. 

And  Segwun,  the  youthful  stranger, 
More  distinctly  in  the  daylight 
Saw  the  icy  face  before  him ; 


It  was  Peboan,  the  Winter ! 

From  his  eyes  the  tears  were  flowing, 
As  from  melting  lakes  the  streamlets, 
And  his  body  shrunk  and  dwindled 
As  the  shouting  sun  ascended. 
Till  into  the  air  it  faded, 
Till  into  the  ground  it  vanished, 
And  the  young  man  saw  before  him, 
On  the  hearth-stone  of  the  wigwam, 
Where  the  fire  had  smoked  and  smouldered, 
Saw  the  earliest  flower  of  Spring-time, 
Saw  the  Beauty  of  the  Spring-time, 
Saw  the  Miskodeed  in  blossom. 

Thus  it  was  that  in  the  Northland 
After  that  unheard-of  coldness, 
That  intolerable  Winter, 
Came  the  Spring  with  all  its  splendour, 
All  its  birds  and  all  its  blossoms, 
All  its  flowers  and  leaves  and  grasses. 

Sailing  on  the  wind  to  northward, 


Flying  in  great  flocks,  like  arrows, 
Like  huge  arrows  shot  through  heaven, 
Passed  the  swan,  the  Mahnahbezee, 
Speaking  almost  as  a  man  speaks ; 
And  in  long  lines  waving,  bending 
Like  a  bow-string  snapped  asunder, 
The  white  goose,  the  Waw-be-wawa ; 
And  in  pairs,  or  singly  flying, 
Mahng  the  loon,  with  clangorous  pinions, 
The  blue  heron,  the  Shuh-shuh-gah, 
And  the  grouse,  the  Mushkodasa, 

In  the  thickets  and  the  meadows 
Piped  the  blue-bird,  the  Owaissa, 
On  the  summit  of  the  lodges 
Sang  the  Opechee,  the  robin, 
In  the  covert  of  the  pine-trees 
Cooed  the  Omemee,  the  pigeon, 
And  the  sorrowing  Hiawatha, 
Speechless  in  his  infinite  sorrow, 
Heard  their  voices  calling  to  him, 


Went  forth  from  his  gloomy  doorway, 
Stood  and  gazed  into  the  heaven. 
Gazed  upon  the  earth  and  waters. 

From  his  wanderings  far  to  eastward, 
From  the  regions  of  the  morning, 
From  the  shining  land  of  Wabun, 
Homeward  now  returned  lagoo, 
The  great  traveller,  the  great  boaster, 
Full  of  new  and  strange  adventures, 
Marvels  many  and  many  wonders. 

And  the  people  of  the  village 
Listened  to  him  as  he  told  them 
Of  his  marvellous  adventures, 
Laughing  answered  him  in  this  wise : 
"  Ugh !  it  is  indeed  lagoo ! 
No  one  else  beholds  such  wonders ! " 

He  had  seen,  he  said,  a  water 
Bigger  than  the  Big-Sea-Water, 
Broader  than  the  Gitche  Gumee, 
Bitter  so  that  none  could  drink  it ! 


At  each  other  looked  the  warriors, 
Looked  the  women  at  each  other, 
Smiled,  and  said,  "  It  cannot  be  so ! 
Kaw ! "  they  said,  "  it  cannot  be  so ! " 

O'er  it,  said  he,  o'er  this  water 
Came  a  great  canoe  with  pinions, 
A  canoe  with  wings  came  flying, 
Bigger  than  a  grove  of  pine-trees, 
Taller  than  the  tallest  tree-tops ! 
And  the  old  men  and  the  women 
Looked  and  tittered  at  each  other ; 
"  Kaw  !"  they  said,  "we  don't  believe  it!" 

From  its  mouth,  he  said,  to  greet  him, 
Came  Waywassimo,  the  lightning, 
Came  the  thunder,  Annemeekee ! 
And  the  warriors  and  the  women 
Laughed  aloud  at  poor  lagoo ; 
"  Kaw !"  they  said,  "  what  tales  you  tell  us !" 

In  it,  said  he,  came  a  people, 
In  the  great  canoe  with  pinions 


Came,  he  said,  a  hundred  warriors ; 

Painted  white  were  all  their  faces, 

And  with  hair  their  chins  were  covered ! 

And  the  warriors  and  the  women 

Laughed  and  shouted  in  derision, 

Like  the  ravens  on  the  tree-tops, 

Like  the  crows  upon  the  hemlock. 

"  Kaw !"  they  said,  "  what  lies  you  tell  us ! 

Do  not  think  that  we  believe  them ! " 

Only  Hiawatha  laughed  not, 
But  he  gravely  spake  and  answered 
To  their  jeering  and  their  jesting : 
"  True  is  all  lagoo  tells  us ; 
I  have  seen  it  in  a  vision, 
Seen  the  great  canoe  with  pinions, 
Seen  the  people  with  white  faces, 
Seen  the  coming  of  this  bearded 
People  of  the  wooden  vessel 
From  the  regions  of  the  morning, 
From  the  shining  land  of  Wabun. 


"  Gitche  Manito  the  Mighty, 
The  Great  Spirit,  the  Creator, 
Sends  them  hither  on  his  errand, 
Sends  them  to  us  with  his  message. 
Wheresoe'er  they  move,  before  them 
Swarms  the  stinging  fly,  the  Ahmo, 
Swarms  the  bee,  the  honey-maker ; 
Wheresoe'er  they  tread,  beneath  them 
Springs  a  flower  unknown  among  us, 
Springs  the  White-man's  Foot  in  blossom. 

"  Let  us  welcome,  then,  the  strangers, 
Hail  them  as  our  friends  and  brothers, 
And  the  heart's  right  hand  of  friendship 
Give  them  when  they  come  to  see  us. 
Gitche  Manito,  the  Mighty, 
Said  this  to  me  in  my  vision. 

"  I  beheld,  too,  in  that  vision 
All  the  secrets  of  the  future, 
Of  the  distant  days  that  shall  be. 
I  beheld  the  westward  marches 


Of  the  unknown,  crowded  nations. 
All  the  land  was  full  of  people, 
Restless,  struggling,  toiling,  striving, 
Speaking  many  tongues,  yet  feeling 
But  one  heart-beat  in  their  bosoms. 
In  the  woodlands  rang  their  axes, 
Smoked  their  towns  in  all  the  valleys, 
Over  all  the  lakes  and  rivers 
Rushed  their  great  canoes  of  thunder. 

"  Then  a  darker,  drearier  vision 
Passed  before  me,  vague  and  cloud-like ; 
I  beheld  our  nations  scattered, 
All  forgetful  of  my  counsels, 
Weakened,  warring  with  each  other ; 
Saw  the  remnants  of  our  people 
Sweeping  westward,  wild  and  woeful, 
Like  the  cloud-rack  of  a  tempest, 
Like  the  withered  leaves  of  autumn ! " 



BY  the  shore  of  Gitche  Gumee, 
By  the  shining  Big- Sea- Water, 
At  the  doorway  of  his  wigwam, 
In  the  pleasant  Summer  morning, 
Hiawatha  stood  and  waited. 

All  the  air  was  full  of  freshness, 
All  the  earth  was  bright  and  joyous, 
And  before  him,  through  the  sunshine, 
Westward  toward  the  neighbouring  forest 
Passed  in  golden  swarms  the  Ahmo, 
Passed  the  bees,  the  honey-makers, 
Burning,  singing  in  the  sunshine. 


Bright  above  him  shone  the  heavens, 
Level  spread  the  lake  before  him ; 
From  its  bosom  leaped  the  sturgeon, 
Sparkling,  flashing  in  the  sunshine ; 
On  its  margin  the  great  forest 
Stood  reflected  in  the  water, 
Every  tree-top  had  its  shadow, 
Motionless  beneath  the  water. 

From  the  brow  of  Hiawatha 
Gone  was  every  trace  of  sorrow. 
As  the  fog  from  off  the  water, 
As  the  mist  from  off  the  meadow. 
With  a  smile  of  joy  and  triumph, 
With  a  look  of  exultation, 
As  of  one  who  in  a  vision 
Sees  what  is  to  be,  but  is  not, 
Stood  and  waited  Hiawatha. 

.Toward  the  sun  his  hands  were  lifted, 
Both  the  palms  spread  out  against  it, 
And  between  the  parted  fingers 


Fell  the  sunshine  on  his  features, 
Flecked  with  light  his  naked  shoulders, 
As  it  falls  and  flecks  an  oak-tree 
Through  the  rifted  leaves  and  branches. 

O'er  the  water  floating,  flying, 
Something  in  the  hazy  distance, 
Something  in  the  mists  of  morning,- 
Loomed  and  lifted  from  the  water, 
Now  seemed  floating,  now  seemed  flying, 
Coming  nearer,  nearer,  nearer. 

Was  it  Shingebis  the  diver  ? 
Was  it  the  pelican,  the  Shada? 
Or  the  heron,  the  Shuh-shuh-gah  ? 
Or  the  white  goose,  Waw-be-wawa, 
With  the  water  dripping,  flashing 
From  its  glossy  neck  and  feathers  ? 

It  was  neither  goose  nor  diver, 
Neither  pelican  nor  heron, 
O'er  the  water  floating,  flying, 
Through  the  shining  mist  of  morning, 


But  a  birch-canoe  with  paddles, 
Rising,  sinking  on  the  water, 
Dripping,  flashing  in  the  sunshine, 
And  within  it  came  a  people 
From  the  distant  land  of  Wabun, 
From  the  farthest  realms  of  morning 
Came  the  Black-Robe  chief,  the  Prophet, 
He  the  Priest  of  Prayer,  the  Pale-face, 
With  his  guides  and  his  companions. 

And  the  noble  Hiawatha, 
With  his  hands  aloft  extended, 
Held  aloft  in  sign  of  welcome, 
Waited,  full  of  exultation, 
Till  the  birch-canoe  with  paddles 
Grated  on  the  shining  pebbles, 
Stranded  on  the  sandy  margin, 
Till  the  Black-Robe  chief,  the  Pale-face, 
With  the  cross  upon  his  bosom, 
Landed  on  the  sandy  margin. 

Then  the  joyous  Hiawatha 


Cried  aloud  and  spake  in  this  wise  : 
"  Beautiful  is  the  sun,  O  strangers, 
When  you  come  so  far  to  see  us ! 
All  our  town  in  peace  awaits  you, 
All  our  doors  stand  open  for  you ; 
You  shall  enter  all  our  wigwams, 
For  the  heart's  right  hand  we  give  you. 

"  Never  gloomed  the  earth  so  gayly, 
Never  shone  the  sun  so  brightly, 
As  to-day  they  shine  and  blossom 
When  you  come  so  far  to  see  us ! 
Never  was  our  lake  so  tranquil, 
Nor  so  free  from  rocks  and  sand-bars ; 
For  your  birch-canoe  in  passing 
Has  removed  both  rock  and  sand-bar ! 

"  Never  before  had  our  tobacco 
Such  a  sweet  and  pleasant  flavour, 
Never  the  broad  leaves  of  our  corn-fields 
Were  so  beautiful  to  look  on, 
As  they  seem  to  us  this  morning, 


When  you  come  so  far  to  see  us ! " 

And  the  Black-Robe  chief  made  answer, 

Stammered  in  his  speech  a  little, 

Speaking  words  yet  unfamiliar : 

<f  Peace  be  with  you,  Hiawatha, 

Peace  be  with  you  and  your  people, 

Peace  of  prayer,  and  peace  of  pardon, 

Peace  of  Christ,  and  joy  of  Mary !"  ' 
Then  the  generous  Hiawatha 

Led  the  strangers  to  his  wigwam, 

Seated  them  on  skins  of  bison, 

Seated  them  on  skins  of  ermine, 

And  the  careful,  old  Nokomis 

Brought  them  food  in  bowls  of  bass-wood, 

Water  brought  in  birchen  dippers, 

And  the  calumet,  the  peace-pipe, 

Filled  and  lighted  for  their  smoking. 
All  the  old  men  of  the  village, 

All  the  warriors  of  the  nation, 

All  the  Jossakeeds,  the  prophets, 



The  magicians,  the  Wabenos, 
And  the  medicine-men,  the  Medas, 
Came  to  bid  the  strangers  welcome ; 
"  It  is  well,"  they  said,  "  O  brothers, 
That  you  come  so  far  to  see  us ! " 

In  a  circle  round  the  doorway, 
With  their  pipes  they  sat  in  silence, 
Waiting  to  behold  the  strangers, 
Waiting  to  receive  their  message ; 
Till  the  Black-Robe  chief,  the  Pale-face, 
From  the  wigwam  came  to  greet  them, 
Stammering  in  his  speech  a  little, 
Speaking  words  yet  unfamiliar ; 
"  It  is  well,"  they  said,  "  O  brother, 
That  you  come  so  far  to  see  us ! " 

Then  the  Black-Robe  chief,  the  prophet, 
Told  his  message  to  the  people, 
Told  the  purport  of  his  mission, 
Told  them  of  the  Virgin  Mary, 
And  her  blessed  Son,  the  Saviour, 


How  in  distant  lands  and  ages 
He  had  lived  on  earth  as  we  do ; 
How  he  fasted,  prayed,  and  laboured ; 
How  the  Jews,  the  tribe  accursed, 
Mocked  him,  scourged  him,  crucified  him ; 
How  he  rose  from  where  they  laid  him, 
Walked  again  with  his  disciples, 
And  ascended  into  heaven. 

And  the  chiefs  made  answer,  saying : 
"  We  have  listened  to  your  message, 
We  have  heard  your  words  of  wisdom, 
We  will  think  on  what  you  tell  us. 
It  is  well  for  us,  O  brothers, 
That  you  come  so  far  to  see  us  ! " 

Then  they  rose  up  and  departed 
Each  one  homeward  to  his  wigwam, 
To  the  young  men  and  the  women 
Told  the  story  of  the  strangers 
Whom  the  Master  of  Life  had  sent  them 
From  the  shining  land  of  Wabun. 


Heavy  with  the  heat  and  silence 
Grew  the  afternoon  of  Summer ; 
With  a  drowsy  sound  the  forest 
Whispered  round  the  sultry  wigwam, 
With  a  sound  of  sleep  the  water 
Rippled  on  the  beach  below  it ; 
From  the  corn-fields  shrill  and  ceaseless 
Sang  the  grasshopper,  Pah-puk-keena ; 
And  the  guests  of  Hiawatha, 
Weary  with  the  heat  of  Summer, 
Slumbered  in  the  sultry  wigwam. 
Slowly  o'er  the  simmering  landscape 
Fell  the  evening's  dusk  and  coolness, 
And  the  long  and  level  sunbeams 
Shot  their  spears  into  the  forest, 
Breaking  through  its  shields  of  shadow, 
Rushed  into  each  secret  ambush, 
Searched  each  thicket,  dingle,  hollow ; 
Still  the  guests  of  Hiawatha 
Slumbered  in  the  silent  wigwam. 


From  his  place  rose  Hiawatha, 
Bade  farewell  to  old  Nokomis, 
Spake  in  whispers,  spake  in  this  wise, 
Did  not  wake  the  guests  that  slumbered  : 

"  I  am  going,  O  Nokomis, 
On  a  long  and  distant  journey, 
To  the  portals  of  the  Sunset, 
To  the  regions  of  the  home-wind, 
Of  the  Northwest  wind,  Keewaydin. 
But  these  guests  I  leave  behind  me, 
In  your  watch  and  ward  I  leave  them ; 
See  that  never  harm  comes  near  them, 
See  that  never  fear  molests  them, 
Never  danger  nor  suspicion, 
Never  want  of  food  or  shelter, 
In  the  lodge  of  Hiawatha ! " 

Forth  into  the  village  went  he, 
Bade  farewell  to  all  the  warriors, 
Bade  farewell  to  all  the  young  men, 
Spake  persuading,  spake  in  this  wise : 


"  I  am  going,  O  my  people, 
On  a  long  and  distant  journey ; 
Many  moons  and  many  winters 
Will  have  come,  and  will  have  vanished, 
Ere  I  come  again  to  see  you. 
But  my  guests  I  leave  behind  me  ; 
Listen  to  their  words  of  wisdom, 
Listen  to  the  truth  they  tell  you, 
For  the  Master  of  Life  has  sent  them 
From  the  land  of  light  and  morning  ! " 

On  the  shore  stood  Hiawatha, 
Turned  and  waved  his  hand  at  parting : 
On  the  clear  and  luminous  water 
Launched  his  birch-canoe  for  sailing, 
From  the  pebbles  of  the  margin 
Shoved  it  forth  into  the  water ; 
Whispered  to  it,  "  Westward  !  westward ! " 
And  with  speed  it  darted  forward. 

And  the  evening  sun  descending 
Set  the  clouds  on  fire  with  redness, 


Burned  the  broad  sky,  like  a  prairie, 
Left  upon  the  level  water 
One  long  track  and  trail  of  splendour, 
Down  whose  stream,  as  down  a  river, 
Westward,  westward  Hiawatha 
Sailed  into  the  fiery  sunset, 
Sailed  into  the  purple  vapours, 
Sailed  into  the  dusk  of  evening. 

And  the  people  from  the  margin 
Watched  him  floating,  rising,  sinking, 
Till  the  birch-canoe  seemed  lifted 
High  into  that  sea  of  splendour, 
Till  it  sank  into  the  vapours 
Like  the  new  moon  slowly,  slowly 
Sinking  in  the  purple  distance. 

And  they  said,  "  Farewell  for  ever !" 
Said,  "  Farewell,  O  Hiawatha  !" 
And  the  forests,  dark  and  lonely, 
Moved  through  all  their  depths  of  darkness, 
Sighed,  "Farewell,  O  Hiawatha!" 


And  the  waves  upon  the  margin 
Rising,  rippling  on  the  pebbles, 
Sobbed,  "Farewell,  O  Hiawatha  !" 
And  the  heron,  the  Shuh-shuh-gah, 
From  her  haunts  among  the  fen-lands, 
Screamed,  "Farewell,  O  Hiawatha!" 

Thus  departed  Hiawatha, 
Hiawatha  the  Beloved, 
In  the  glory  of  the  sunset, 
In  the  purple  mists  of  evening, 
To  the  regions  of  the  home-wind, 
Of  the  Northwest  wind  Keewajdin, 
To  the  Islands  of  the  Blessed, 
To  the  kingdom  of  Ponemah, 
To  the  land  of  the  Hereafter ! 



THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA. — This  Indian  Edda — if  I 
may  so  call  it — is  founded  on  a  tradition  prevalent 
among  the  North  American  Indians,  of  a  personage 
of  miraculous  birth,  who  was  sent  among  them  to  clear 
their  rivers,  forests,  and  fishing-grounds,  and  to  teach 
them  the  arts  of  peace.  He  was  known  among  diffe 
rent  tribes  by  the  several  names  of  Michabou,  Chiabo, 
Manabozho,  Tarenyawagon,  and  Hiawatha.  Mr.  School- 
craft  gives  an  account  of  him  in  his  Algic  Researches, 
Vol.  I.  p.  1 34  ;  and  in  his  History,  Condition,  and  Pros 
pects  of  the  Indian  Tribes  of  the  United  States,  Part  III. 
p.  314,  may  be  found  the  Iroquois  form  of  the  tradition, 
derived  from  the  verbal  narrations  of  an  Onondaga 

Into  this  old  tradition  I  have  woven  other  curious 

300  NOTES. 

Indian  legends,  drawn  chiefly  from  the  various  and 
valuable  writings  of  Mr.  Schoolcraft,  to  whom  the 
literary  world  is  greatly  indebted  for  his  indefatigable 
zeal  in  rescuing  from  oblivion  so  much  of  the  legendary 
lore  of  the  Indians. 

The  scene  of  the  poem  is  among  the  Ojibways  on 
the  southern  shore  of  Lake  Superior,  in  the  region 
between  the  Pictured  Kocks  and  the  Grand  Sable. 

PAGE  5.    In  the  Vale  of  Tawasentha. 
This  valley,  now  called  Norman's  Kill,  is  in  Albany 
County,  New  York. 

PAGE  11.     On  the  Mountains  of  the  Prairie. 

Mr.  Catlin,  in  his  Letters  and  Notes  on  the  Manners, 
Customs,  and  Condition  of  the  North  American  Indians, 
Vol.  II.  p.  160,  gives  an  interesting  account  of  the 
C6teau  des  Prairies,  and  the  Red  Pipe-stone  Quarry. 
He  says  : — 

1  Here  (according  to  their  traditions)  happened  the 
mysterious  birth  of  the  red  pipe,  which  has  blown 
its  fumes  of  peace  and  war  to  the  remotest  corners 
of  the  continent  ;  which  has  visited  every  warrior, 
and  passed  through  its  reddened  stem  the  irrevocable 
oath  of  war  and  desolation.  And  here,  also,  the  peace- 

NOTES.  301 

breathing  calumet  was  born,  and  fringed  with  the 
eagle's  quills,  which  has  shed  its  thrilling  fumes  over 
the  land,  and  soothed  the  fury  of  the  relentless  savage. 
"  The  Great  Spirit  at  an  ancient  period  here  called 
the  Indian  nations  together,  and,  standing  on  the  preci 
pice  of  the  red  pipe-stone  rock,  broke  from  its  wall  a 
piece,  and  made  a  huge  pipe  by  turning  it  in  his  hand, 
which  he  smoked  over  them,  and  to  the  North,  the 
South,  the  East,  and  the  West,  and  told  them  that  this 
stone  was  red, — that  it  was  their  flesh, — that  they  must 
use  it  for  their  pipes  of  peace, — that  it  belonged  to 
them  all,  and  that  the  war-club  and  scalping -knife 
must  not  be  raised  on  its  ground.  At  the  last  whiff 
of  his  pipe  his  head  went  into  a  great  cloud,  and  the 
whole  surface  of  the  rock  for  several  miles  was  melted 
and  glazed  ;  two  great  ovens  were  opened  beneath,  and 
two  women  (guardian  spirits  of  the  place)  entered  them 
in  a  blaze  of  fire  ;  and  they  are  heard  there  yet  (Tso- 
mec-cos-tee  and  Tso-me-cos-te-won-dee),  answering  to 
the  invocations  of  the  high-priests  or  medicine-men 
who  consult  them  when  they  are  visitors  to  this  sacred 

PAGE  22.    Hark  you,  Bear!  you  are  a  coward. 

This  anecdote  is  from  Heckewelder.     In  his  account 

302  NOTES. 

of  the  Indian  Nations,  he  describes  an  Indian  hunter 
as  addressing  a  bear  in  nearly  these  words.  "I  was 
present,"  he  says,  "at  the  delivery  of  this  curious  in 
vective  ;  when  the  hunter  had  despatched  the  bear,  I 
asked  him  how  he  thought  that  poor  animal  could 
understand  what  he  said  to  it  ?  '  0,'  said  he  in  answer, 
1  the  bear  understood  me  very  well ;  did  you  not  ob 
serve  how  ashamed  he  looked  while  I  was  upbraiding 
him?'" — Transactions  of  the  American  Philosophical 
Society,  Vol.  I.  p.  240. 

PAGE  40.     Hush  !  the  Naked  Bear  will  get  thee  ! 

Heckewelder,  in  a  letter  published  in  the  Transac 
tions  of  the  American  Philosophical  Society,  Vol.  IV. 
p.  260,  speaks  of  this  tradition  as  prevalent  among  the 
Mohicans  and  Delawares. 

"  Their  reports,"  he  says,  "  run  thus  :  that  among  all 
animals  that  had  been  formerly  in  this  country,  this 
was  the  most  ferocious  ;  that  it  was  much  larger  than 
the  largest  of  the  common  bears,  and  remarkably  long- 
bodied  ;  all  over  (except  a  spot  of  hair  on  its  back  of  a 
white  colour),  naked 

"  The  history  of  this  animal  used  to  be  a  subject  of 
conversation  among  the  Indians,  especially  when  in  the 
woods  a  hunting.  I  have  also  heard  them  say  to  their 

NOTES.  303 

children   when   crying :   '  Hush !    the  naked  bear  will 
hear  you,  be  upon  you,  and  devour  you.'" 

PAGE  62.     Where  the  Falls  of  Minnehaha,  dec. 

"  The  scenery  about  Fort  Snelling  is  rich  in  beauty. 
The  Falls  of  St.  Anthony  are  familiar  to  travellers,  and 
to  readers  of  Indian  sketches.  Between  the  fort  and 
these  falls  are  the  '  Little  Falls,'  forty  feet  in  height,  on 
a  stream  that  empties  into  the  Mississippi.  The 
Indians  call  them  Mine-hah-hah,  or  '  laughing  waters.'  " 
— Mrs.  Eastman's  Dacotah,  or  Legends  of  the  Sioux, 
Introd.  p.  ii. 

PAGE  148.    Sand  Hills  of  the  Nagow  Wudjoo. 

A  description  of  the  Grand  Sable,  or  great  sand- 
dunes  of  Lake  Superior,  is  given  in  Foster  and  Whit 
ney's  Report  on  the  Geology  of  the  Lake  Superior  Land 
District,  Part  II.  p.  131. 

"The  Grand  Sable  possesses  a  scenic  interest  little 
inferior  to  that  of  the  Pictured  Rocks.  The  explorer 
passes  abruptly  from  a  coast  of  consolidated  sand  to 
one  of  loose  materials ;  and  although  in  the  one  case 
the  cliffs  are  less  precipitous,  yet  in  the  other  they 
attain  a  higher  altitude.  He  sees  before  them  a  long 
reach  of  coast,  resembling  a  vast  sand-bank,  more  than 

304  NOTES. 

three  hundred  and  fifty  feet  in  height,  without  a  trace 
of  vegetation.  Ascending  to  the  top,  rounded  hillocks 
of  blown  sand  are  observed,  with  occasional  clumps  of 
trees,  standing  out  like  oases  in  the  desert." 

PAGE  149.     Onaway!  Awake,  beloved! 
The  original  of  this  song  may  be  found  in  Littell's 
Living  Age,  Vol.  XXV.  p.  45. 

PAGE  155.     Or  the  Red  Swan  floating ,  flying . 

The  fanciful  tradition  of  the  Red  Swan  may  be  found 
in  Schoolcraft's  Algic  Researches,  Vol.  II.  p.  9.  Three 
brothers  were  hunting  on  a  wager  to  see  who  would 
bring  home  the  first  game. 

"  They  were  to  shoot  no  other  animal,"  so  the  legend 
says,  "but  such  as  each  was  in  the  habit  of  killing. 
They  set  out  different  ways  ;  Odjibwa,  the  youngest, 
had  not  gone  far  before  he  saw  a  bear,  an  animal  he  was 
not  to  kill,  by  the  agreement.  He  followed  him  close, 
and  drove  an  arrow  through  him,  which  brought  him 
to  the  ground.  Although  contrary  to  the  bet,  he  im 
mediately  commenced  skinning  him,  when  suddenly 
something  red  tinged  all  the  air  around  him.  He  rubbed 
his  eyes,  thinking  he  was  perhaps  deceived ;  but  with 
out  effect,  for  the  red  hue  continued.  At  length  he 

NOTES.  305 

heard  a  strange  noise  at  a  distance.  It  first  appeared 
like  a  human  voice,  but  after  following  the  sound  for 
some  distance,  he  reached  the  shores  of  a  lake,  and 
soon  saw  the  object  he  was  looking  for.  At  a  distance 
out  in  the  lake  sat  a  most  beautiful  Red  Swan,  whose 
plumage  glittered  in  the  sun,  and  who  would  now  and 
then  make  the  same  noise  he  had  heard.  He  was 
within  long  bow-shot,  and,  pulling  the  arrow  from  the 
bow-string  up  to  his  ear,  took  deliberate  aim  and  shot. 
The  arrow  took  no  effect ;  and  he  shot  and  shot  again 
till  his  quiver  was  empty.  Still  the  swan  remained, 
moving  round  and  round,  stretching  its  long  neck  and 
dipping  its  bill  into  the  water,  as  if  heedless  of  the 
arrows  shot  at  it.  Odjibwa  ran  home,  and  got  all  his 
own  and  his  brother's  arrows,  and  shot  them  aU  away. 
He  then  stood  and  gazed  at  the  beautiful  bird.  While 
standing,  he  remembered  his  brother's  saying  that  in 
their  deceased  father's  medicine-sack  were  three  magic 
arrows.  Off  he  started,  his  anxiety  to  kill  the  swan 
overcoming  all  scruples.  At  any  other  time,  he  would 
have  deemed  it  sacrilege  to  open  his  father's  medicine- 
sack  ;  but  now  he  hastily  seized  the  three  arrows  and 
ran  back,  leaving  the  other  contents  of  the  sack  scat 
tered  over  the  lodge.  The  swan  was  stih1  there.  He 
shot  the  first  arrow  with  great  precision,  and  came 


306  NOTES. 

very  near  to  it.  The  second  came  still  closer  ;  as  he 
took  the  last  arrow,  he  felt  his  arm  firmer,  and,  drawing 
it  up  with  vigour,  saw  it  pass  through  the  neck  of  the 
swan  a  little  above  the  breast.  Still  it  did  not  prevent 
the  bird  from  flying  off,  which  it  did,  however,  at  first 
slowly,  flapping  its  wings  and  rising  gradually  into  the 
air,  and  then  flying  off  toward  the  sinking  of  the  sun." 
—pp.  10-12. 

PAGE  172.     When  I  think  of  my  beloved. 
The  original  of  this  song  may  be  found  in  Oneota, 
p.  15. 

PAGE  175.     Sing  the  mysteries  of  Mondamin. 

The  Indians  hold  the  maize,  or  Indian  corn,  in  great 
veneration.  "  They  esteem  it  so  important  and  divine 
a  grain,"  says  Schoolcraft,  "  that  their  story-teller  in 
vented  various  tales,  in  which  this  idea  is  symbolized 
under  the  form  of  a  special  gift  from  the  Great  Spirit. 
The  Odjibwa-Algonquins,  who  call  it  Mon-da-min,  that 
is,  the  Spirit's  grain  or  berry,  have  a  pretty  story  of  this 
kind,  in  which  the  stalk  in  full  tassel  is  represented  as 
descending  from  the  sky,  under  the  guise  of  a  hand 
some  youth,  in  answer  to  the  prayers  of  a  young  man 
at  his  fast  of  virility,  or  coming  to  manhood. 

NOTES.  307 

"It  is  well  known  that  corn -planting,  and  corn- 
gathering,  at  least  among  all  the  still  uncolonised 
tribes,  are  left  entirely  to  the  females  and  children, 
and  a  few  superannuated  old  men.  It  is  not  generally 
known,  perhaps,  that  this  labour  is  not  compulsory, 
and  that  it  is  assumed  by  the  females  as  a  just  equi 
valent,  in  their  view,  for  the  onerous  and  continuous 
labour  of  the  other  sex,  in  providing  meats,  and  skins 
for  clothing,  by  the  chase,  and  in  defending  their 
villages  against  their  enemies,  and  keeping  intruders 
off  their  territories.  A  good  Indian  housewife  deems 
this  a  part  of  her  prerogative,  and  prides  herself  to 
have  a  store  of  corn  to  exercise  her  hospitality,  or 
duly  honour  her  husband's  hospitality,  in  the  enter 
tainment  of  the  lodge  guests." — One6ta,  p.  82. 

PAGE  178.     Thus  the  fields  shall  be  more  fruitful. 

"  A  singular  proof  of  this  belief,  in  both  sexes,  of  the 
mysterious  influence  of  the  steps  of  a  woman  on  the 
vegetable  and  insect  creation,  is  found  in  an  ancient 
custom,  which  was  related  to  me,  respecting  corn- 
planting.  It  was  the  practice  of  the  hunter's  wife, 
when  the  field  of  corn  had  been  planted,  to  choose 
the  first  dark  or  over-clouded  evening  to  perform  a 
secret  circuit,  sans  habilement,  around  the  field.  For 

308  NOTES. 

this  purpose  she  slipped  out  of  the  lodge  in  the 
evening,  unobserved,  to  some  obscure  nook,  where 
she  completely  disrobed.  Then,  taking  her  matche- 
cota,  or  principal  garment,  in  one  hand,  she  dragged 
it  around  the  field.  This  was  thought  to  insure  a 
prolific  crop,  and  to  prevent  the  assaults  of  insects 
and  worms  upon  the  grain.  It  was  supposed  they 
could  not  creep  over  the  charmed  line." — Oneota,  p.  83. 

PAGE  183.     With  his  prisoner-string  he  bound  him. 

"  These  cords,"  says  Mr.  Tanner,  "  are  made  of  the 
bark  of  the  elm-tree,  by  boiling  and  then  immersing 

it  in  cold  water The  leader  of  a  war  party 

commonly  carries  several  fastened  about  his  waist, 
and  if,  in  the  course  of  the  fight,  any  one  of  his  young 
men  takes  a  prisoner,  it  is  his  duty  to  bring  him  im 
mediately  to  the  chief,  to  be  tied,  and  the  latter  is 
responsible  for  his  safe-keeping." — Narrative  of  Cap 
tivity  and  Adventures,  p.  412. 

PAGE  186.     Wagemin,  the  thief  of  corn-fields, 

Paimosaid,  the  skulking  robber. 
"  If  one  of  the  young  female  huskers  finds  a  red  ear 
of  corn,  it  is  typical  of  a  brave  admirer,  and  is  regarded 
fitting  present  to  some  young  warrior.    But  if  the 

NOTES.  309 

ear  be  crooked,  and  tapering  to  a  point,  no  matter  what 
colour,  the  whole  circle  is  set  in  a  roar,  and  wa-ge-min 
is  the  word  shouted  aloud.  It  is  the  symbol  of  a  thief 
in  the  corn-field.  It  is  considered  as  the  image  of  an 
old  man  stooping  as  he  enters  the  lot.  Had  the  chisel 
of  Praxiteles  been  employed  to  produce  this  image,  it 
could  not  more  vividly  bring  to  the  minds  of  the  merry 
group  the  idea  of  a  pilferer  of  their  favourite  mon- 

"  The  literal  meaning  of  the  term  is,  a  mass,  or  crooked 
ear  of  grain  ;  but  the  ear  of  corn  so  called  is  a  conven 
tional  type  of  a  little  old  man  pilfering  ears  of  corn  in  a 
corn-field.  It  is  in  this  manner  that  a  single  word  or 
term,  in  these  curious  languages,  becomes  the  fruitful 
parent  of  many  ideas.  And  we  can  thus  perceive  why  it 
is  that  the  word  wagemin  is  alone  competent  to  excite 
merriment  in  the  husking  circle. 

"  This  term  is  taken  as  the  basis  of  the  cereal  chorus, 
or  corn-song,  as  sung  by  the  Northern  Algonquin  tribes. 
It  is  coupled  with  the  phrase  Paimosaid,  —  a  permuta- 
tive  form  of  the  Indian  substantive,  made  from  the 
verb  pimosa,  to  walk.  Its  literal  meaning  is,  he  who 
walks,  or  the  walker ;  but  the  ideas  conveyed  by  it  are, 
he  who  walks  by  night  to  pilfer  corn.  It  offers,  there- 

310  NOTES. 

fore,  a  kind  of  parallelism  in  expression  to  the  preced 
ing  term." — Oneota,  p.  254. 

PAGE  213.     Pugasaing,  with  thirteen  pieces. 

This  game  of  the  Bowl  is  the  principal  game  of 
hazard  among  the  Northern  tribes  of  Indians.  Mr. 
Schoolcraft  gives  a  particular  account  of  it  in  Oneota, 
p.  85.  "  This  game,"  he  says,  "  is  very  fascinating  to 
some  portions  of  the  Indians.  They  stake  at  it  their 
ornaments,  weapons,  clothing,  canoes,  horses,  every 
thing  in  fact  they  possess  ;  and  have  been  known,  it  is 
said,  to  set  up  their  wives  and  children,  and  even  to  for 
feit  their  own  liberty.  Of  such  desperate  stakes  I  have 
seen  no  examples,  nor  do  I  think  the  game  itself  in 
common  use.  It  is  rather  confined  to  certain  persons, 
who  hold  the  relative  rank  of  gamblers  in  Indian 
society, — men  who  are  not  noted  as  hunters  or  war 
riors  or  steady  providers  for  their  families.  Among 
these  are  persons  who  bear  the  term  of  lenadizze-wug, 
that  is,  wanderers  about  the  country,  braggadocios,  or 
fops.  It  can  hardly  be  classed  with  the  popular  games 
of  amusement,  by  which  skill  and  dexterity  are  acquired. 
I  have  generally  found  the  chiefs  and  graver  men  of  the 
tribes,  who  encouraged  the  young  men  to  play  ball,  and 

NOTES.  311 

are  sure  to  be  present  at  the  customary  sports,  to  wit 
ness,  and  sanction,  and  applaud  them,  speak  lightly  and 
disparagingly  of  this  game  of  hazard.  Yet  it  cannot  be 
denied,  that  some  of  the  chiefs,  distinguished  in  war 
and  the  chase,  at  the  West,  can  be  referred  to  as  lend 
ing  their  example  to  its  fascinating  power." 

See  also  his  History,  Condition,  and  Prospects  of  the 
Indian  Tribes,  Part  II.,  p.  72. 

PAGE  239.     To  the  Pictured  Rocks  of  sandstone. 

The  reader  will  find  a  long  description  of  the  Pictured 
Rocks  in  Foster  and  Whitney's  Report  on  the  Geology  of 
the  Lake  Superior  Land  District,  Part  II.  p.  124.  From 
this  I  make  the  following  extract : — 

"  The  Pictured  Rocks  may  be  described,  in  general 
terms,  as  a  series  of  sandstone  bluffs  extending  along 
the  shore  of  Lake  Superior  for  about  five  miles,  and 
rising  in  most  places,  vertically  from  the  water,  with 
out  any  beach  at  the  base,  to  a  height  varying  from 
fifty  to  nearly  two  hundred  feet.  Were  they  simply  a 
line  of  cliffs,  they  might  not,  so  far  as  relates  to  height 
or  extent,  be  worthy  of  a  rank  among  great  natural 
curiosities,  although  such  an  assemblage  of  rocky 
strata,  washed  by  the  waves  of  the  great  lake,  would 
not,  under  any  circumstances,  be  destitute  of  grandeur. 

312  NOTES. 

To  the  voyager,  coasting  along  their  base  in  his  frail 
canoe,  they  would,  at  all  times,  be  an  object  of  dread  ; 
the  recoil  of  the  surf,  the  rock-bound  coast,  affording, 
for  miles,  no  place  of  refuge, — the  lowering  sky,  the 
rising  wind, — all  these  would  excite  his  apprehension, 
and  induce  him  to  ply  a  vigorous  oar  until  the  dreaded 
wall  was  passed.  But  in  the  Pictured  Rocks  there  are 
two  features  which  communicate  to  the  scenery  a 
wonderful  and  almost  unique  character.  These  are, 
first,  the  curious  manner  in  which  the  cliffs  have  been 
excavated,  and  worn  away  by  the  action  of  the  lake, 
which,  for  centuries,  has  dashed  an  ocean-like  surf 
against  their  base  ;  and,  second,  the  equally  curious 
manner  in  which  large  portions  of  the  surface  have 
been  coloured  by  bands  of  brilliant  hues. 

"  It  is  from  the  latter  circumstance  that  the  name, 
by  which  these  cliffs  are  known  to  the  American  tra 
veller,  is  derived ;  while  that  applied  to  them  by  the 
French  voyageurs  ('  Les  Portails')  is  derived  from  the 
former,  and  by  far  the  most  striking  peculiarity. 

"  The  term  Pictured  Rocks  has  been  in  use  for  a 
great  length  of  time ;  but  when  it  was  first  applied, 
we  have  been  unable  to  discover.  It  would  seem  that 
the  first  travellers  were  more  impressed  with  the  novel 
and  striking  distribution  of  colours  on  the  surface, 

NOTES.  313 

than  with  the  astonishing  variety  of  form  into  which 
the  cliffs  themselves  have  been  worn. 

"  Our  voyageurs  had  many  legends  to  relate 

of  the  pranks  of  the  Menni-bojou  in  these  caverns, 
and,  in  answer  to  our  inquiries,  seemed  disposed  to 
fabricate  stories,  without  end,  of  the  achievements  of 
this  Indian  deity." 

PAGE  285.     Toward  the  sun  his  hands  were  lifted. 
In  this    manner,    and   with  such    salutations,  was 
Father  Marquette  received  by  the   Ilinois.     See  his 
et  Decouvertes,  Section  V. 



Adjidau'mo,  the  red  squirrel. 
Ahdeek',  the  reindeer. 
Ahmeek',  the  beaver. 
Annemee'kee,  the  thunder. 
Apuk'wa,  a  bulrush. 
Baim-Ava'wa,  the  sound  of  the 


Bemah'gut,  the  grape-vine. 
Big-Sea-Water,   Lake   Supe 

Cheemaun',  a  birch-canoe. 
Chetowaik',  the  plover. 
Chibia'bos,  a  musician ;  friend 

of  Hiawatha  ;  ruler  in  the 

Land  of  Spirits. 
Dahin'da,  the  bull-frog. 
Dush-kwo-ne'-shee,  or  Kwo- 

ne'-she,  the  dragon-fly. 
Esa,  shame  upon  you. 
Ewa-yea',  lullaby. 
Gitcb/e  Gu'mee,  the  Big-Sea- 

Water,  Lake  Superior. 
Gitch'e    Man'ito,    the    Great 

Spirit,  the  Master  of  Life. 
Gushkewau',  the  darkness. 
Hiawa'tha,  the   Prophet,  the 

Teacher  ;  son  of  Mudjekce- 

wisf  the  West- Wind,  and 
Wenonah,  daughter  of  No- 

la'goo,  a  great  boaster  and 

Inin'ewug,  men,  or  pawns  in 
the  Game  of  the  Bowl. 

Ishkoodah',  jire  ;  a  comet. 

Jee'bi,  a  ghost,  a  spirit. 

Joss'akeed,  a  prophet. 

Kabibonok'ka,  the  North- 

Ka'go,  do  not. 

Kahgahgee',  the  raven. 

Kaw,  no. 

Kaween',  no  indeed. 

Kayoshk',  the  sea-gull. 

Kee'go,  a  fish. 

Keeway'din,  the  North-west 
wind  ;  the  Home-wind. 

Kena'beek,  a  serpent. 

Keneu',  the  great  war-eagle. 

Keno'zha,  the  pickerel. 

Ko'ko-ko'ho,  the  owl. 

Kuntasoo',  Me  Game  of  Plum- 

Kwa'sind,  the  Strong  Man. 



Kwo-ne'-she,  or  Dush-kwo- 
ne-'-she,  the  dragon-fly. 

Mahnahbe'zee,  the  swan. 

Mahng,  the  loon. 

Mahn  -  go  -  tay'see,       loon- 
hearted,  brave. 

Mahnomo'nee,  wild  rice. 

Ma'ma,  the  woodpecker. 

Maskenc/zha,  tJie  pike. 

Me'da,  a  medicine-man. 

Meena'hga,  the  blueberry. 

Megissog'won,  the  great  Pearl- 
feather,  a  magician,  and  the 
Manito  of  Wealth. 

Meshinau'wa,  a  pipe-hearer. 

Minjekah'wun,  Hiawatha's 

Minneha'ha,  Laughing  Wa 
ter  ;  a  water-fall  on  a  stream 
running  into  the  Mississippi, 
between  Fort  Snelling  and 
the  Falls  of  St.  Anthony. 

Minneha'ha,  Laughing  Wa 
ter  ;  wife  of  Hiawatha. 

Minne-wa'wa,  a  pleasant 
sound,  as  of  the  wind  in 
the  trees. 

Mish'e  -  Mo'kwa,  the  Great 

Mish'e -Nah'ma,  the  Great 

Miskodeed',  the  Spring-Beau 
ty,  the  Claytonia  Virginlca. 

Moiida'min,  Indian  corn. 

Moon  of  Bright  Nights, 

Moon  of  Leaves,  May. 

Moon  of  Strawberries,  June. 

Moon  of  the  Falling  Leaves, 

Moon  of  Snow-shoes,  No 

Mudjekee'wis,  the  West- 
Wind;  father  of  Hia 

Mudway-aush'ka,  sound  of 
waves  on  a  shore. 

Mushkoda'sa,  the  grouse. 

Nah'ma,  the  sturgeon. 

Nah'ma- wusk,  spearmint. 

Na'gow  Wudj'oo,  the  Sand 
Dunes  of  Lake  Superior. 

Nee-ba-naw'-baigs,  water- 

Nenemoo'sha,  sweetheart. 

Nepah'win,  sleep. 

Noko'mis,  a  grandmother ; 
mother  of  Wenonah. 

No'sa,  my  father. 

Nush'ka,  look  !  look  ! 

Odahmin,  the  strawberry. 

Okahah'wis,  the  fresh-water 

Ome'me,  the  pigeon. 

Ona'gon,  a  bowl. 

Onaway',  awake. 

Opechee',  the  robin. 

Osse'o,  Son  of  the  Evening 

Owais'sa,  the  blue-bird. 

Oweenee',  wife  ofOsseo. 

Ozawa'beek,  a  round  piece  of 
brass  or  copper  in  the  Game 
of  the  Bowl. 

Pah-puk-kee'na,  the  grass 

Pau'guk,  death. 

Pau-Puk-Kee'wis,  the  hand 
some  Yenadizze,  the  Storm 

Pe'boan,  Winter. 

Pem'ican,  meat  of  the  deer  or 
buffalo  dried  and  pounded. 

Pezhekee',  the  bison. 



Pishnekuh',  the  brant. 

Ponemah',  hereafter. 

Puggawau'gun,  a  war  club. 

Puk-Wudj'ies,  Puk-Wudg- 
Inin'ees,  little  wild  men  of 
the  woods ;  pigmies. 

Sah-sah-je'-wun,  rapids. 

Sah'wa,  the  perch. 

Segwun',  Spring. 

Sha'da,  the  pelican. 

Shahbo'min,  the  gooseberry. 

Shah-shah,  long  ago. 

Shaugoda'ya,  a  coward. 

Sha^gashee',  the  craw -fish. 

Shaw<5nda'see,  the  South- 

Shaw-shaw,  the  swallow. 

Shesh'ebwug,  ducks;  pieces 
in  the  Game  of  the  Bowl. 

Shin'gebis,  the  diver,  or 

Showain'  nerne'shin,  pity  me. 

Shuh-shuh'-gah,  the  blue 

Soan-ge-ta'ha,  strong -hearted. 

Subbeka'she,  the  spider. 

Sugge'ma,  the  mosquito. 

To' tern,  family  coat-of-arms. 

Ugh,  yes. 

Ugudwash',  the  sun-fish. 

Unktahee',  the  God  of  Water. 

Wabas'so,  the  rabbit;  the 

Wabe'no,  a  magician,  a  juggler. 

Wabe'no-wusk.  yarrow. 

Wa'bun,  the  East-  Wind. 

Wa'bun  An'nung,  the  Star 
of  the  East,  the  Morning 

"Wahono'min,  a  cry  of  lamen 

"Wah-wah-tay'see,  thefire-Jly. 

Waubew/on,  a  white  skin 

Wa'wa,  the  wild-goose. 

Waw'beek,  a  rock. 

Waw-be-wa'wa,  the  white 

Wawonais'sa,  the  whippoor- 

Way-muk-kwa'na,  the  cater 

Weno'nah,  the  eldest  daughter; 
Hiawatha's  mother  ;  daugh 
ter  of  Nokomis. 

Yenadiz'ze,  an  Idler  and  gam 
bler  ;  an  Indian  dandy. 


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(.86,  FLK.ET  STREET. 



Jronnng  nnfr 


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Practical  Essays  on  the  Fine  Arts ; 

with  a  Critical  Examination  into  the  Principles  and  Practice  of  the  late 
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Fielding's  Works  on  Painting. 

I.  Treatise  on  Painting  in  Water  Colours  in  Theory  and  Practice. 
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The  Elements  of  Art : 

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The  Art  of  Painting  Restored 

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K^  MANUALS  OF  ART,  see  page  15. DRAWING  BOOKS,  page  21. 


An  Analysis  of  Gothick  Architecture. 

Illustrated  by  a  series  of  upwards  of  Seven  Hundred  Examples  of  Door 
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2  large  vols.  royal  4to.  jfcJ5.  5s. 



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The  Open  Timber  Roofs  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

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Principles  of  Gothic  Ecclesiastical  Architecture. 

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nnfog  nf 

,  fa. 

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Leonard  Lindsay. 

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The  Greatest  Plague  of  Life ; 

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Acting  Charades  ; 

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Cracker  Bon-Bon  for  Christmas  Parties  : 

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Christopher  Tadpole : 

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Gavarni  in  London. 

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The  Pentamerone ; 

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Illustrations  of  Time. 

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Illustrations  of  Phrenology. 

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The  Bottle. 

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The  Comic  Alphabet. 

Twenty-six  Humorous  Designs.    In  case,  2s.  6d.  plain ;  4s.  coloured. 

The  Loving  Ballad  of  Lord  Bat  em  an. 

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Mr.  Bachelor  Butterfly : 

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Comic  Adventures  of  Obadiah  Oldbuck  : 

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The  History  of  Mr.  Ogleby  : 

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and  the  elegance  of  his  attitudes,  lie  attained  distinction  in  the  fashionable 
world.  150  Designs,  6s.  cloth. 

The  Comic  Latin  Grammar : 

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"  Without  exception  the  most  richly  romic  work  we  have  ever  seen."— T AIT'S  MAG. 

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Tale  of  a  Tiger. 

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Olomtc  Natural 

By  ALBERT  SMITH,  A.  B.  REACH,  HORACE  MAYHEW,  &c.  &c. 

Profusely  Illustrated  by  the  best  Comic  Artists  of  the  day. 

Price  One  Shilling  each. 

The  Gent. 

The  Ballet  Girl. 

Stuck-up  People. 


Idler  upon  Town. 
The  Flirt. 
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A  Bowl  of  Punch. 

A.  B.  REACH. 

Bores.  |        Humbugs. 

Romance  of  a  Mince  Pie. 


Model  Men.        |       Model  Women. 

Changs  for  a  Shilling. 

Also,  in  same  style, 

Hearts  are  Trumps.     By  James  Hannay. 

Natural  History  of  Tuft-hunters  and  Toadies. 

„         ,,  the  Hawk  Tribe  (Swindlers,  Blacklegs,  &c.) 

„         „  a  Bal  Masque.     By  the  Count  Chicard. 




Life  of  William  Etty,  R.A. 

By  ALEXANDER  GILCHRIST,  of  the  Middle  Temple,  Barrister-at-Law. 
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Cariosities  of  London  ; 

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Life  and  Times  of  Madame  de  Stael. 

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My  Life  and  Acts  in  Hungary  : 

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Men  of  the  Time  : 

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Lectures  on  the  Great  Exhibition 

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in.  PAKIS  :  with  a  G-uide  to  the  Exposition  of  1855. 
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The  Pocket  Peerage  and   Baronetage  of  Great 

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Webster's  Quarto  Dictionary,  unabridged ; 

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GOODRICH.  With  Pronouncing  Vocabularies  of  Scripture,  Classical, 
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Webster's  Octavo  Dictionary. 

Abridged  from  the  above.  Cloth,  7s.  6d. 

The  Fourth  Estate. 

A  History  of  Newspapers  and  the  Liberty  of  the  Press.  By  F.  K.  HUNT. 
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The  Religion  of  Geology, 

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Longfellow's  Poems,  complete  Edition. 

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Emma  de  Lissau ; 

or,  Memoirs  of  a  Converted  Jewess.  With  Illustrations  by  Gilbert. 
New  Edition,  7s.  cloth;  10s.  6d.  morocco. 

Miriam  and  Rosette ; 

or,  The  Twin  Sisters  :  a  Jewish  Narrative  of  the  XVIIIth  Century.  By 
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Rev.  Thomas  Dale's  Poetical  Works. 

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The  Whaleman's  Adventures  in  theSouthernOcean. 

Edited  by  the  Rev.  W.  SCORESBY,  D.D.    Fcp.  8vo.  cloth,  6s. 

Madame  Guizot's  Young  Student ; 

or,  Ralph  and  Victor:  a  Tale  for  Youth,  by  Madame  GUIZOT.  Trans 
lated  by  SAMUEL  JACKSON.  With  Engravings.  New  Edition,  fcp.  8vo. 
3s.  6d.  cloth. 

The  London  Anecdotes  for  all  Readers, 

on  the  Plan  of  the  Percy  Anecdotes.    2  vols.  4s.  cloth. 

The  Glory  of  Christ 

illustrated  in  his  Character  and  History,  and  in  the  last  things  of  liis 
Mediatorial  Government.  By  GARDINER  SPRING,  D.D.  Fcp.  7s.  cl. 

The  Singing-Book. 

The  art  of  Singing  at  Sight  taught  by  Progressive  Exercises.  By  JAMES 
TURLE,  Organist  of  Westminster  Abbey  ;  and  EDWARD  TAYLOH, 
Gresham  Professor  of  Music.  4s.  6d.  cloth. 

Egeria  ;  or,  the  Spirit  of  Nature. 

By  CHARLES  MACK.AY,  LL.D.    Fcp.  8vo.  5s.  cloth. 

Town  Lyrics. 

By  CHARLES  MACKAY.    Crown  8vo.  sewed,  Is. 

The  Book  of  the  Months, 

and  CIRCLE  of  the  SEASONS.  Embellished  with  Twenty-eight 
Engravings  from  Drawings  by  WILLIAM  HARVEY.  Beautifully  printed 
in  fcp.  8vo.  3s.  6d.  cloth. 

Miniature  French  Dictionary, 

in  French  and  English,  and  English  and  French:  comprising  all  the 
words  in  general  use.  The  remarkably  comprehensive  nature  and  com 
pact  size  of  this  little  dictionary  admirably  fit  it  for  the  student  and 
tourist.  Neatly  bound  in  roan,  4s.  morocco,  gilt  edges,  5s.  6d. 

Sharpens  Diamond  Dictionary 

of  the  ENGLISH  LANGUAGE.  A  very  small  volume,  beautifully 
printed  in  a  clear  and  legible  type.  Roan  neat,  2s.  6d. ;  morocco,  3s.  6d. 



Miscellaneous  Books — continued. 

May  You  Like  It : 

a  Series  of  Tales  and  Sketches.  By  the  Rev.  CHARLES  B.  TAYLEU, 
Author  of  "  Records  of  a  Good  Man's  Life."  Fcp.  8vo.  7s.  6<i.  cloth  ; 
10s.  6d.  morocco. 

Sketches  of  Canadian  Life, 

Lay  and  Ecclesiastical,  illustrative  of  Canada  and  the  Canadian  Church. 
By  a  PRESBYTER  otthe  DIOCESE  of  TORONTO.  Post  8vo.  6s. 

Recollections  of  the  Lakes  ; 

and  OTHER  POEMS.  By  the  Author  of  "  Moral  of  Flowers,"  "  Spirit 
of  the  Woods,"  &c.  Fcp.  Svo.  with  Frontispiece,  7s.  cloth  ;  10s.  Gd.  rnor. 

Year-Book  of  Facts  in  Science  and  Art ; 

exhibiting  the  most  important  Discoveries  and  Improvements  of  the 
Year,  and  a  Literary  and  Scientific  Obituary.    By  JOHN  TIMES,  F.S.A. 
Editor  of  "  Th^ Arcana  of  Science."    Fcp.  Svo.  5s.  cloth. 
***  This  work  is  published  annually,  and  contains  a  complete  and  con 
densed  view  of  the  progress  of  discovery  during  the  year,  systematically  ar 
ranged,  with  engravings  illustrative  of  novelties  in  the  arts  and  sciences,  &c. 
The  volumes,  from  its  commencement  in  1839,  may  still  be  had,  5s.  er.cli. 

"  Ably  and  honestly  compiled." — ATHENJEUM. 

Life's  Lessons  : 

a  Domestic  Tale.  By  the  Author  of  "  Tales  that  Might  be  True."  New 
Edition,  wth  Frontispiece,  fcp.  Svo.  4s,  cloth. 

Williams's  Symbolical  Euclid, 

chiefly  from  the  Text  of  Dr.  Simson.    Adapted  to  the  Use  of  Students  by 
the  Rev.  J .  M.  WILLIAMS,  of  Queen's  College,  Cambridge.   New  Edition, 
6s.  6d.  cloth ;  7s.  roan. — An  Svo.  Edition  may  also  be  had,  7s.  cloth. 
£§:}:  This  edition  is  in  use  at  many  of  the  Public  Schools. 

King's  Interest  Tables, 

on  Sums  from  One  to  Ten  Thousand  Pounds.  Enlarged  and  improved, 
with  several  useful  Additions.  By  JOSKPH  KING,  of  Liverpool.  In 
1  large  vol.  Svo.  21s. 

Seven  Hundred  Domestic  Hints, 

combining  Elegance  and  Economy  with  the  Enjoyment  of  Home.  By  a 
LADY.  Neatly  bound  in  cloth,  2s.  6d. 

Floral  Fancies ; 

or,  Morals  from  Flowers.  With  Seventy  Illustrations.  Fcp.  Svo.  7s.  cloth. 

The  Game  of  Whist ; 

its  Theory  and  Practice,  by  an  Amateur.  With  Illustrations  by  KENNY 
MEADOWS.  New  Edition,  fcp.  Svo.  3s.  cloth. 

Backgammon  : 

its  History  and  Practice,  by  the  Author  of  "  Whist."  Illustrated  by 
MEADOWS.  Fcp.  Svo.  2s.  cloth. 

The  Dream  of  Eugene  Aram. 

By  THOMAS  HOOD,  Author  of  "  The  Song  of  a  Shirt."  With  Illustra 
tions  by  Harvey.  Crown  Svo.  Is.  sewed. 



Miscellaneous  Books-*- continued. 



Books  of  Poetry. 


THE  LYRE. — Fugitive  Poetry  of  the  Nineteenth  Century. 
THE  LAUREL— a  Companion  Volume  to  the  Lyre. 
3s.  6d.  neatly  bound. 

Elegant  Miniature  Editions. 

COWPER'S  POEMS.    2  vols. 


4  vols.  containing' the  above  Poems 

uniformly  bound. 

***  Each  volume,  very  neatly  bound  and  gilt,  2s.  6d.  cloth  ;  4s.  morocco. 


One  Shilling  each,  neatly  bound. 

ETIQUETTE  FOR  THE  LADIES.— Fortieth  Edition. 

ETIQUETTE  FOR  THE  GENTLEMEN.— Thirty-fourth  Edition. 

ETIQUETTE  OF  COURTSHIP  AND  MATRIMONY,  with  a  complete  Guide  to  the 

Forms  of  a  Wedding. 


THE  WEATHER  BOOK  :  300  Rules  for  Telling  the  Weather. 

LANGUAGE  OF  FLOWERS,  with  illuminated  covers  and  coloured  frontispiece, 
BALL  ROOM  POLKA,  with  Music  and  Figures. 

^Manuals  of  Xngmmton  ant)  &mugement. 

Price  One  Shilling  each,  neatly  printed  and  illustrated. 

1.  Manual  of  Flower  Gardening  for  Ladies.      By  J.  B.  Whiting, 

Practical  Gardener.     2d  Edition. 

2.  . Chess.     By  Charles  Kenny. 

&  . . —     Music.     By  C.  W.  Manby. 

4 Domestic  Economy.     By  John  Timbs. 

5] Cage  Birds.     By  a  Practical  Bird  keeper. 

6*.  —  Oil  Painting;  with  a  Glossary  of  Terms  of  Art. 

1\. for  Butterfly  Collectors.     By  Abel  Ingpen.     Plates. 

g[ Painting  in  Water  Colours. 



'g  t&s&inet  Stbrarg  Coition*. 





±§t  These  Works  are  clearly  and  beautifully  printed  by  Whittingham,  and 
each  comprised  in  a  handsome  fcp.  8vo.  vol.  Their  elegance  and  cheapness 
render  them  very  suitable  for  Presents,  School  Prizes,  or  Travelling  Com 
panions.  Price  6s.  each,  neatly  half-bound  morocco ;  or  9s.  calf  extra. 

"  TILT'S  EDITION"  must  be  specified  in  ordering  the  above. 

Mr.  Henry  Mayhew's  Book  of  Science  for  Boys. 

The  Story  of  the  Peasant-boy  Philosopher;  or,  "a  Child  gathering 
Pebbles  on  the  SeaShore."  Founded  on  theLife  of  Ferguson  the  Shepherd- 
boy  Astronomer,  and  showing  how  a  Poor  Lad  made  himself  acquainted 
•with  the  Principles  of  Natural  Science.  By  HENRY  MAYHEW,  Author 
of  "  London  Labour  and  the  London  Poor."  With  Eiarht  Illustrations 
by  JOHN  GILBERT,  and  numerous  Drawings  printed  in  the  text.  Second 
Edition,  6s.  cloth. 

Captain  Mayne  Reid's  Books  for  Boys. 

t.  The  Desert  Home ;  or,  English  Family  Robinson.  With 
numerous  Illustrations  by  W.  HARVEY.  Fourth  Edition,  cloth,  7s.; 
with  coloured  plates,  10s.  6d. 

ii.  The  Boy  Hunters ;  or,  Adventures  in  Search  of  a  White 
Buffalo.  With  numerous  Plates  by  HARVEY.  Fourth  Edition,  cloth,  7s. ; 
coloured,  10s.  6d. 

ill.  The  Young  Voyageurs  ;  or,  Adventures  in  the  Fur  Countries  of 
the  Far  North.  "Plates  by  Harvey.  Second  Edition,  cloth,  7s.  ;  with 
coloured  plates,  10s.  6d. 

iv.  The  Forest  Exiles ;  or,  Perils  of  a  Peruvian  Family  amid  the 
Wilds  of  the  Amazon.  With  Twelve  Plates.  7s.  cloth :  with  coloured 
Plates,  10s.  6d. 

The  Boyhood  of  Great  Men 

As  an  Example  to  Youth.  By  JOHN  G.  EDGAR.  With  Cuts  by  B.  Foster. 
Third  Edition,  3s.  6d.  cloth  ;  with  gilt  edges,  4s. 

Footprints  of  Famous  Men ; 

or,  Biography  for  Boys.     By  J.  G.  EDGAR.    Cuts  by  Foster.     Second 
Edition,  3s.  6d.  cloth;  4s.  gilt  edges. 



Juvenile  Works — continued. 

History  for  Boys  ; 

or,  Annals  of  the  Nations  of  Modern  Europe.     By  J.  G.  EDGAR.    Fcp. 
8vo.  with  Illustrations  by  GEORGE  THOMA.S,  5s.  cloth  gilt. 

Memorable  Women ; 

The  Story  of  their  Lives.  By  Mrs.  NEWTON  CROSLAND.  Illustrated  by 
B.  Foster.  Fcp.  8vo.  6s. 

The  Boy's  Own  Book  : 

a  complete  Encyclopaedia  of  all  the  Diversions— Athletic,  Scientific,  and 
Recreative— of  Boyhood  and  Youth.  With  several  hundred  Woodcuts. 
New  Edition,  greatly  enlarged  and  improved.  Handsomely  bound,  8s.  6d. 

The  Little  Boy's  Own  Book, 

An  Abridgement  of  the  above  for  Little  Boys.    3s.  6d.  neatly  bound. 

Picture  Book  for  Young  People. 

Fifty  quarto  Plates,  with  Descriptions,  cloth,  5s. ;  coloured,  10s.  6d. 

George  Cruikshank's  Fairy  Library. 

Edited  and  Illustrated  by  George  Cruikshank. 
I.  Hop  o'  My  Thumb,  Is.  j   n.   Jack  and  the  Bean-stalk,  Is. 
m.  Cinderella,  or  the  Glass  Slipper,  Is. 

The  Comical  Creatures  from  Wurtemberg : 

from  the  Stuffed  Animals  in  the  Great  Exhibition.  Square  cloth,  3s.  6d. ; 
coloured,  6s. 

Comical  People 

met  with  at  the  Great  Exhibition,  from  Drawings  by  J.  J.  GRANDVILLE. 
Small  quarto,  3s.  6d. ;  coloured,  6s. 

Comical  Story  Books, 

With  Coloured  Plates.    Price  One  Shilling  each. 

1.  The  Weasels  of  Holmwood. 

2.  The  Wonderful  Hare  Hunt. 

3.  Story  of  Reynard  the  Fox. 

4.  Lady  Chaffinch's  Ball. 

5.  Alderman  Gobble. 

6.  A  Comical  Fight. 

Original  Poems  for  my  Children. 

By  THOMAS  MILLER.    Profusely  Illustrated.    2s.  6d.  cloth. 

The  Young  Islanders  ; 

a  Tale  of  the  Seaward-House  Boys.  By  JEF.TAYLOR.  Tinted  plates,  6s.  cl. 

History  of  England, 

for  Young  Persons.    By  ANNE  LYDIA  BOND.    80  illustrations,  3s.  6d. 


Juvenile  Works — continued. 

Little  Mary's  Books  for  Children. 

Price  6d.  each,  profusely  illustrated  :— 

Primer ;  Spelling-  Book  ;  Reading  Book  ;  History  of  England  ;  Scripture 
Lessons;  First  Book  of  Poetry;  Second  Book  of  Poetry;  Babes  in  theWood; 
Picture  Riddles  ;  Little  Mary  and  her  Doll. 

Little  Mary's  Treasury, 

Being  Eight  of  the  above  bound  in  one  volume,  cloth,  5s. 

Little  Mary's  Lesson  Book ; 

containing  "Primer,"  " Spelling,"  and  "Reading,"  in  One  Volume. 
Cloth,  gilt,  2s.  6d. 

Harry's  Ladder  to  Learning. 

Picture  Books  for  Children.    Price  6d.  each,  plain  ;  Is.  coloured  :— 

„       PICTURE  BOOK. 
„       COUNTRY  WALKS. 


„         SIMPLE  STORIES. 


Or  the  Six  bound  in  one  volume,  3s.  6d.  cloth ;  or  with  col'd  plates,  6s. 

Harry's  Book  of  Poetry  : 

Short  Poems  for  the  Nursery.  By  ELIZA  GROVE.  With  numerous 
Illustrations  by  H.  WEIF,  B.  FOSTER,  and  others.  Square,  cloth,  3s.  6d. ; 
or  with  coloured  Plates,  6s. 

The  Playmate ; 

a  Pleasant  Companion  for  Spare  Hours.  With  numerous  illustrations. 
Complete  in  One  Volume,  cloth  gilt,  5s. 

The  Church  Catechism  Illustrated  : 

With  the  Order  of  Confirmation.  With  numerous  Engravings  on  wood. 
Neatly  done  up  in  gilt  cover  as  a  gift  or  reward  book.  Is. 

Home  Lesson  Books. 

The  Home  Primer,  nearly  200  cuts,  cloth,  Is. 
The  Home  Natural  History,  cuts,  cloth,  Is. 
The  Home  Grammar,  cuts,  cloth,  Is. 

Each  may  be  had  with  Coloured  Plates,  2s.  6d. 

Home  Story  Books. 

The  Well-bred  Doll,  cuts,  cloth,  Is. 
The  Discontented  Chickens,  cloth,  Is. ; 
The  History  of  Little  Jane  and  her  New  Book,  cloth,  Is. 
Or,  with  Coloured  Plates,  2s.  6d. 



Juvenile  Works — continued. 

Bertie's  Indestructible  Books. 

Printed  on  Calico,  6d.  each. 

1.  HORN  BOOK. 

2.  WORD  BOOK. 

3.  FARM  YARD. 



6.  BIRD  BOOK. 

Bertie's  Treasury ; 

being  the  above  bound  in  One  Volume.    3s.  6d.  cloth. 

a.  d. 


ARABIAN  NIGHTS,  as  related  by  a  Mother  (many  Plates) 3  6 

BARBAULD'S  LESSONS  FOR  CHILDREN  (Coloured  Plates) 1  0 








BOY'S  TREASURY  OF  SPORTS  AND  PASTIMES  (300  Engravings  by  S. 

Williams)  fcp.  8vo.  cloth 6  0 

CHILD'S  FIRST  LESSON  BOOK  (many  Cuts)  square,  cloth 3  6 

FAMILY  POETRY,  by  the  Editor  of  "Sacred  Harp,"  silk 2  6 

FIGURES  OF  FUN  ;  Two  Parts  (Coloured  Plates) 1  0 

FLOWERS  OF  FABLE  (180  Engravings)  4  0 

HEROES  OF  ENGLAND:  Lives  of  celebrated  Soldiers  and  Sailors 

(Plates)  cloth  gilt  4  0 


HISTORY  OF  MY  PETS,  by  Grace  Greenwood  (Coloured  Plates) 2  6 

LIFE  OF  CHRIST,  New  Edition  (28  Plates)  4  0 


PARLEY'S  VISIT  TO  LONDON  (Col'd  Plates),  cloth , 4  0 

PARLOUR  MAGIC,  Amusing  Recreations  (many  Plates) 4  6 

PICTORIAL  BIBLE  HISTORY,  complete  in  1  volume,  cloth 3  6 


(Cuts)  cloth 3  6 

SEDGWICK'S  STORIES  FOR  YOUNG  PERSONS  (Plates),  cloth 3  6 

%*  A  detailed  Catalogue  of  PRESENT  BOOKS  FOR  YOUTH  may  be  had 
on  application. 





A  Choice  Collection  of  Standard  Works,  elegantly  printed,  illustrated  with 
Frontispieces,  and  published  at  extremely  low  prices,  with  a  view  to  exten 
sive  circulation.  The  binding  is  executed  in  a  superior  manner,  and  very 
tastefully  ornamented. 

Any  work  may  be  purchased  separately.    The  prices  per  volume  are- 
Ornamented  cloth,  gilt  edges. .   Is.  6d.— Prettily  bound  in  silk ,,..     s. 

Very  handsome  in  morocco 3s. 

Those  to  which  a  star  is  prefixed,  being  much  thicker  than  the  others,  are  6d.  per  vol.  extra. 

Bacon's  Essays. 

Beattie's  Minstrel. 

Channing's  Essays.    2  vols. 

Chapone's  Letters  on  the  Mind. 

Coleridge's  Ancient  Mariner,  &c. 
*Cowper's  Poems.    2  vols. 

Elizabeth,  or  the  Exiles  of  Siberia. 

Falconer's  Shipwreck. 

Fenelon's  Reflections. 
*Gems  of  Anecdote. 
*Gems  of  Wit  and  Humour. 
*Gems  from  American  Poets. 
*Gems  from  Shakspeare. 
*Gems  of  American  Wit. 
*Gems  of  British  Poets— 

1st  Ser.  Chaucer  to  Goldsmith. 
2d     „     Falconer  to  Campbell. 
3d     „     Living  Authors. 
4th    „     Sacred. 
*Goldsmith's  Vicar  of  Wakefield. 

Goldsmith's  Essays. 

Goldsmith's  Poetical  Works. 

Gray's  Poetical  Works. 

Guide  to  Domestic  Happiness. 

Gregory's  Legacy  to  his  Daughters. 
*Hamilton's  Cottagers  of  Glenburnie. 

*Hamilton'sLettersonEducation.  2  v. 

Lamb's  Tales  from  Shakspeare.  2v. 

Lamb's  Rosamund  Gray. 
*Irving's  Essays  and  Sketches. 

Johnson's  Rasselas. 

Lewis's  Tales  of  Wonder. 

Mason  on  Self-knowledge. 

Milton's  Paradise  Lost.    2  vols. 
*More's  Coelebs.    2  vols. 

More's  Practical  Piety.    2  vols. 
*Pious  Minstrel. 

Paul  and  Virginia. 

Pure  Gold  from  Rivers  of  Wisdom. 
*Sacred  Harp. 

Scott's  Ballads,  &c. 
*Scott's  Lady  of  the  Lake. 

Scott's  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel. 
*Scott's  Marmion. 
*Scott's  Rokeby. 
*Shakspeare's  Works.    8  vols. 
*Thomson's  Seasons. 

Talbot's  Reflections  and  Essays. 

Walton's  Angler.    2  vols. 

Warwick's  Spare  Minutes. 

Young's  Night  Thoughts.    2  vols. 

As  there  are  several  inferior  imitations  of  this  popular  series,  it  is  necessary,  in  ordering,  to 
specify— "JILT'S  EDITION." 

The  whole  Series  may  be  had  in  a  Case,  representing  two  handsome  Quarto 
Volumes,  lettered  "  LONDON  LIBRARY  OF  BRITISH  CLASSICS,"  which, 
when  shut,  is  secured  by  a  patent  spring  lock,  for  £5.  5s.,  forming  a  very 
useful  and  acceptable 




Beautifully  printed  by  Whittingham ;  uniform  in  size  with  "  Tilt's  Classics." 
Each  volume  embellished  with  a  Frontispiece,  designed  by  HARVEY,  and 
numerous  other  Engravings,  amounting  in  all  to  Fifty-three. 

This  elegant  Edition  of  the  first  of  English  Poets  may  be  had  in  various 
styles  of  binding,  at  the  following  very  low  prices :— Cloth,  gilt  edges,  and 
ornamented,  16s. ;  Silk,  20s. ;  Morocco,  very  elegant,  28s. 




tatting  Itanka. 

J.   D.  HARDING. 

Elementary  Lessons.    6  Numbers,  6  Nos.  Is.  6d. ;  or  cloth,  10s.  6d. 

Is.  6d. ;  or  in  cloth,  10s.  6d. 



Or,  Artist's  Sketch-book:  many 
Hundred  Groups  of  Figures,  Boats, 
&c.  Imperial  4to.  24s.  neatly  bd. 


BOOK  of  Landscapes,  Buildings, 
&c.  Six  Numbers,  Is.  6d. ;  cloth, 
10s.  6d. 


By  Mons.  JULIEN,  Professor  of 
Drawing  in  the  Military  School  of 
Paris.  Lithographed  by  T.  FAIR- 
LAND-  Six  Numbers,  2s.  each; 
or  cloth,  14s. 


a  Series  of  Progressive  Studies, 
by  Mons.  JULIEN.  With  Instruc 
tions.  Six  Numbers,  2s. ;  or  cloth, 


JECTS:  Nearly  500  Subjects  for 
young  Pupils,  and  Drawing-classes 
in  Schools.  SixNos.  Is.;  cloth,7s.6d. 


&c.  Improved  Edition.  Fourteen 
Nos.  6d. ;  or  2  vols.  cloth,  4s.  each. 

SCENERY:  Sketchesfrom  Nature 
for  finished  Copies.  Six  Numbers, 
Is.  each;  cloth,  7s.  6d. 

FIGURES  :  Sketches  from  Life  at 
Home  and  Abroad.  Several  hundred 
Figures.  SixNos. Is. ;  orbd.  7s. 6d. 


A  New  Method  of  Teaching  Drawing  by  means  of  Pencilled  Copies,  in 
progressive  lessons.    In  12  Nos.  6d.  each. 

"It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  if  this  method  were  universally  adopted  in  our  sclioolsit 
would  be  attended  with  complete  success." 

ANDREWS' ART  OF  FLOWER-PAINTING.    Col.  Plates.    6  Nos.2s.6d. ;  cl.  16s. 
BARRAUD'S  STUDIES  OF  ANIMALS.    Six  Nos.  3s. ;  coloured,  5s. 
COOPER'S  (T.  S.)  DRAWING  BOOK  OF  ANIMALS.    8 Nos.  Is. each;  bd. I0s.6d. 
2s.  6d. ;  bound,  18s. 

LESSONS  IN  WATER  COLOURS.    4  Nos.  4s. 

FAIRLAND'S  JUVENILE  ARTIST.    8  Nos.  Is. ;  cloth,  8s. 
FORD'S  EASY  LESSONS  IN  LANDSCAPE.    8  Nos.  9d. ;  cloth,  7s.  6d. 
GREENWOOD'S  STUDIES  OF  TREES.    6  Nos.  Is. ;  cloth,  7s.  6d. 
GRUNDY'S  SHIPPING  AND  CRAFT.    6  Nos.  Is.;  cloth, 7s.  6d. 
HAND-BOOK  OF  PENCIL  DRAWING;  or,  Self-Instructor  in  Art.  2  Plates,  cl.  Is. 
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SUTCLIFFE'S  DRAWING-BOOK  OF  HORSES.    6  Nos.  Is. ;  cloth,  7s.  6d. 
WORSLEY'S  LITTLE  DRAWING  BOOK  OF  LANDSCAPES,  &c.    14  Nos.  6d. ;  or 
2  vols.  cloth  4s.  each. 



i&eimceb  in 

Roman  Art.  —  II  Vaticano  : 

an  Historical  and  Descriptive  Account  of  the  Church  of  St.  Peter,  and 
the  Vatican  Museum,  and  Galleries.  By  ERASMO  PISTOLESI.  In  Eight 
Volumes  folio,  containing1  upwards  of  Nine  Hundred  Plates.  Halt-bound 
in  morocco,  gilt  tops,  Thirty  Guineas. 

Authors  of  England  : 

Portraits  of  the  Principal  Literary  Characters,  engraved  in  Basso-relievo 
by  Mr.  COLLAS  ;  with  Lives  by  H.  F.  CHORLEY.  Royal  4to.  cloth  gilt, 
published  at  31s.  6d.  ;  reduced  to  10s.  6d. 

The  Georgian  Era  : 

Modern  British  Biography  since  the  Reign  of  Queen  Anne.  Handsomely 
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The  Noble  Science — Fox-hunting. 

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.     7 

Adalbert's  (Prince)  Travels 

Acting1  Charades 8 

Andrews'  Flower  Painting 21 

Aram,  Eugene,  Dream  of  14 

Architectural  \\  orks 5 

Art  of  Painting  Restored    5 

Authors  of  England 22 

Backgammon 14 

Beattie  and  Collins    3 

Bertie's  Indestructible  Books  . .   19 

Bible  Gallery  3 

Women  of  the 3 

Bingley's  Tales  18 

Bloxam's  Gothic  Architecture  . .     6 
Blunt's  Beauty  of  the  Heavens. .     4 

Boat  (The)  and  the  Caravan 7. 

Bond's  History  of  England 17 

Book  of  Beauty 2 

the  Months..   13 

Bos\vell's  Johnson 16 

Boyhood  of  Great  Men 16 

Boy's  Own  Book 17 

Treasury 18 

Brandon's  Architectural  Works,  5,  6 

Bunyan's  Pilgrim's  Progress 2 

Burnet  on  Painting 5 

's  Essays 5 

Life  of  Turner  2 

Rembrandt 2 

Butterfly  (Bachelor) 10 

Byron  Gallery 3 

Canadian  Life,  Sketches  of 14 

Chapman's  Elements  of  Art  ....     5 
Cheever's  Whaleman's  Adventures  13 

Child's  Drawing  Books    21 

First  Lesson  Book 18 

Christian  Graces  in  Olden  Time .    2 

Christmas  with  the  Poets 1 

Church  Catechism  Illustrated  . .   18 

Comic  Works 9 

Latin  Grammar. . . . 

Natural  Histories. . 

.   10 
.    10 

Almanack    9 

Comical  Creatures  from  Wurtem- 

burg    17 

People  17 

Story  Books   17 

Cooke's  Rome 3 

Cooper's  (T.  S.)  Animals 21 

Court  Album   2 

Cowper's  Poems    4,15,20 

Cracker  Bon  Bon  for  Christmas  8 
Crosland's  Memorable  Women. .  17 
Cruikshank's  (Geo.)  Works  

Dale's  Poems  ''.'.   13 

De  Staei's  (Mad.)  Life  and  Times  11 


Domestic  Architecture 6 

Hints 14 

Drawing  Books  21 

—  Copy  Books  21 

Edgar's  Biographies  for  Boys    . .   16 
—Boyhood  of  Great  Men. .   16 
History  for  Boys    17 

Emma  de  Lissau 13 

English  School  of  Painting 22 

Etiquette  for  the  Ladies .-..   15 

Gentlemen 15 

'    of  Courtship 15 

Etty's  Life,  by  Gilchrist 11 

Euclid,  Symbolical 14 

Fielding's  Works  on  Painting  . .     5 

Floral  Fancies 14 

Flora's  Gems   4 

Footprints  of  Famous  Men 16 

Forster's  Pocket  Peerage 12 

Fountain  of  Living  Waters 12 

Foxhunting,  Noble  Science  of. ...   22 

French  Domestic  Cookery 12 

•  Dictionary,  Miniature  ..   13 

Games  for  Christmas    8 

Gautier'sConstantinople  of  to-day   7 

Gavarni  in  London    8 

Georgian  Era  (The) 2'2 

Glossary  of  Architecture 6 

Goldsmith's  Works ,   16 

Gorgei's  Life  in  Hungary  11 

Graces,  Gallery  of  the 3 

Guides  for  Travellers 11 

Guizot's  (Mad.)  Young  Student. .   13 

Hannay's  Satire  and  Satirists 11 

Happy  Home  (The) 12 

Harding's  Drawing  Books  — 
Sketches  at  Home. 



Harry's  Ladder  to  Learning  . 

Book  of  Poetry 

Heroes  of  England 

Heroines  of  Shakspeare  

Hervey's  Meditations 

Hitchcock's  Religion  of  Geology  12 

Home  Lesson  Books 18 

Story  Books 18 

Hood's  Epping  Hunt 9 

Eugene  Aram    14 

Humphreys'  British  Coins 2 

History  of  Writing.    2 

Hunt's  Fourth  Estate  12 

Introd.  to  G9thic  Architecture  . .     6 

Johnson's  Lives  of  the  Poets 16 

Julien's  Studies  of  Heads  21 

Human  Figure  21 

Juvenile  Books  , ...   17 

Keepsake  (The) 2 

Kendall's  Travels  7 



Index —  continued. 


King's  Interest  Tables 14 

Laconics    22 

Landscape  Painters  of  England. .  2 

Language  of  Flowers 3 

Laurel  and  Lyre 15 

Lectures  on  Great  Exhibition 11 

Gold    11 

Le  Keux's  Cambridge 4 

Life's  Lessons 14 

Little  Mary's  Books 18 

Treasury 18 

. Lesson  Book 18 

Boy's  Own  Book   17 

London  Anecdotes 13 

Longfellow's  Poems    1, 12 

Hyperion 1 

Golden  Legend..  1.  12 

Prose  Works 12 

Mackay's  (Charles)  Egeria 13 

Town   Lyrics  13 

Malcom's  Travels  in  Hindustan  .  22 

Manuals  of  Instruction,  &c 15 

Martin's  (John)  Bible 22 

Massey's  (G.)  Babe  Christabel  ..11 

War  Waits 11 

Mayhew's  Greatest  Plague 8 

Acting  Charades 8 

Magic  of  Industry 8 

Sandboys'  Adventures    8 

Toothache    9 

Model  Men  &  Women  10 

PeasantBoyPhilosopher  16 

Men  of  the  Time 11 

Miller's  (T.)  Poems  for  Children  17 

Pictures  of  Country 

Life 4 

Milton's  Poetical  Works   3 

L'Allegro  Illustrated   . .     1 

Miniature  Classics 20 

Miriam  and  Rosette 13 

Museum  of  Painting  &  Sculpture  22 
Musgrave's  Ramble  in  Normandy    7 

Ogleby's  Adventures 10 

Oldbuck's  Adventures 10 

Painting,  Drawing,  &c.  Works  on    4 

Parlour  Magic 18 

Pearls  of  the  East 4 

Pellatt  on  Glass-making 2 

Pentamerone(The) ..     8 

Pictorial  Bible  History 18 

Picture  Book  for  the  Young 17 

Playmate  (The)  18 

Poetry  of  Flowers  15 

the  Sentiments    15 

Prout's  (Satn.)  Microcosm,  &c.. .  21 


Puckle's  Club 22 

Rafaelle's  Cartoons  2 

Reach's  (A.  B.)  Leonard  Lindsay    8 
Comic. Nat.Hists.  10 

Recollections  of  the  Lakes 

Reid's  (Capt.  M.)  Desert  Home. 

Boy  Hunters . 

Young  Voyag. 

Forest  Exiles  . 

Rembrandt  and  his  Works  ..... 

Ritchie's(L.)  Wearyfoot  Common    7 
Robinson  Crusoe  ................     8 

Romance  of  Nature  ............     3 

Round  Games  ..................     8 

Scott's  Poems  ..............  4,  15,  20 

Seymour's  New  Readings  ......   10 

Shakspeare  Heroines  ............     2 

's  Works 

Sharpens  Diamond  Dictionary   . . 

Singing  Book  

Smith's  (Alexander)  Poems 

Sonnets  on  the  War 

(Albert)  Mont  Blanc  .... 

Constantinople . 

Christ.  Tadpole 

Comic    Natural 

Histories  10 

Southey's  Life  of  Nelson 12 

Spring's  Glory  of  Christ 13 

Stowe  Catalogue 12 

Stuart's  Antiquities  of  Athens  . .     6 

Suggestions  in  Design 6 

Table  Wit 10 

Tale  of  a  Tiger 10 

Tayler's  (C.  B.)  May  You  Like  It  14 

Taylor's  Young  Islanders    17 

Thomson's  Seasons 3,  15, 20 

Timbs'  Curiosities  of  London 11 

Tschudi's  Travels  in  Peru 7 

Turner  and  his  Works 2 

Vaticano  (II) 22 

Vestiges  of  Old  London  3 

Walton's  Angler 4,  20 

Water  Colour  Gallery  22 

Waverley  Gallery  3 

Webster's  Quarto  Dictionary   ..   12 

Octavo  Dictionary 12 

Whist,  Game  of 14 

Willson  on  Water  Colours 5 

Winkle's  Cathedrals 6 

Women  of  the  Bible 3 

Wonders  of  Travel 7 

Year  Book  of  Facts 14 

Young  Lady's  Oracle 8